


Nine circles too far

by SenZen_Travers



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Blood Drinking, Claiming Bites, Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry), Double Penetration, Feral Behavior, Incest, Intersex, M/M, Mating Bites, Mild Gore, Minor Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry), Multi, Parent/Child Incest, Sibling Incest, Sin Devil Trigger (Devil May Cry), Switching, Threesome - M/M/M, Uncle/Nephew Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:28:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28648326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenZen_Travers/pseuds/SenZen_Travers
Summary: Dante and Vergil haven't returned from Hell, and demons are invading the human world with unprecedented frenzy.When Nero decides to go look for the twins, he finds more than he'd bargained for.
Relationships: Dante/Nero (Devil May Cry), Dante/Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Dante/Vergil (Devil May Cry), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nero & Nico (Devil May Cry), Nero/Vergil (Devil May Cry)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 193





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was finished in February 2020 for the Spardacest's server fic exchange; it was heroically wrangled into shape by the lovely  
> [Sootandshadow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootandshadow/pseuds/sootandshadow), who's written some of the best fics of the fandom.
> 
> ... I then completely forgot to post it until now. Well.
> 
> As I have no mean to contact the person this was meant for, I won't name them without their consent. Don't hesitate to reach out if you read this, kind giftee!

Nero had told himself he wouldn’t worry about the twins. Of course, he knew already that he would fail – he had at least _that_ much self-awareness.

Still, with Dante gone, Nero had more than enough to keep his mind busy: missions that the older hunter solved in minutes were closer to hours or days-long ventures for him, even now that he knew how to Trigger. Seeing their difference in strength thrust in his face was pissing Nero off, but it only made him work that much harder.. Next time they met, Dante wouldn’t be exhausted by days of fighting and Nero would _still_ kick his ass.

Beyond that, though, the rest of Nero’s time was spent juggling his plethora of other, slightly more mundane obligations. . Finding time to spend with Kyrie, for instance, despite the necessities of work, and assisting Nico in caring for the van, which would have more demonic energy than Nero by the time they finished tinkering with it. (Admittedly, nothing short of magic could save it from its driver.)

So he managed to ignore the ache in his heart, the feelings of abandonment and frustration, and to focus on the _now_ – until the demonic invasion.

Demons had always been motivated to lay claim to the human realm: that was just a fact of life, like gravity or Nico’s propensity to smoke indoors. Nowadays, though? Portals that had previously held steady unloaded invading forces by the proverbial truckload, liminal places crawled with intruders, and the governments of the world were clutching their pearls with understandable – though annoying – panic.

On the plus side, the money was getting good. It meant that Kyrie was getting the life she deserved: proper clothes for herself, not just the kids and Nero, healthy food for everyone, and enough cash to save up in case of hardship.

On the minus side, there were civilians being killed left and right, and Fortuna itself, as a place naturally close to the demon world, was hit badly. The Knights of the ex-Holy Order managed to keep everything mostly under control, but Nero still felt pangs of panic every time he thought about it. Kyrie had forbidden him to return, arguing that most places were not as well protected as Fortuna, and that was _technically_ true, but.

 _But_. Kyrie was ( _his_ ) her own woman and perfectly capable of handling herself, and the new, unexpected instincts that urged Nero to just _keep her_ in a safe, sealed place like some kind of precious object could go fuck themselves. She had her life. He had his.

And when Nero considered the dreams and impulses he’d had since he’d Triggered for the first time, Kyrie might just as well be safer away from him. He’d woken up a number of times with blood in his mouth from self-inflicted bites, and that usually followed wet dreams that laid bare every fucked-up fantasy his consciousness hadn’t let surface until now. Fighting and tearing, biting and marking, _eating_ –

Kyrie was safer with the knights.

She would be even safer once the hows and whys of the invasion were understood, which was why Nero had – for once – used stealth, ambushing and capturing a particularly sneaky demon commander. _Sneaky_ meant _clever or cowardly_. _Clever or cowardly_ meant _able to answer questions with something else than insults_.

Indeed, the guy had been more than cooperative. Seeing what Nero’s fists could do up close and personal had been all the motivation he’d needed to babble away, an automatic fire of words so quick that Nero struggled to redirect his monologue.

“It’s just _orders_ , nothing personal, we just have to follow instructions, you know –”

“Whose?”

“My lady, a most esteemed demon lady, of an old –”

“She the one behind all those attacks?”

“Oh, no! Everybody is doing it, you see –”

“Why? How? The portals held ‘til now. What’s happening in Hell?”

“Sparda’s sons.”

“What?”

The demon looked at Nero in the “duh”-est way.

“Sparda’s sons are happening. They’re this – for the longest time, there were conflicting reports because we’d never seen more than one at the same place, so people said there was one, or two, and since you know that most of ours aren't the brightest –”

Nero punched the nearest tree, reducing wood to splinters. The demon made an “eep” sound.

“To the _point,_ ” he growled.

“They’re there!” The demon squealed. “They’re two! And they’re ravaging everywhere they go! They’ve taken down two demons lords already, they’re destroying fortresses –”

Nero stared hard at the creature, incredulity freezing his rage.

“You’re _fleeing_?”

“We’re part of, ah, the _prudent_ fraction of demons, though some still –”

“You’re fleeing. The portals are collapsing because you’re investing all your manpower on them.”

“Well, there’s no use in keeping troops at home if there’s no _home_.”

Nero couldn’t believe he could believe it. He resisted the urge to punch another tree. This was _ridiculous_.

Why did it always fall to him to clean up his crazy, asshole family's mess?

***

“Ya realize this isn’t very capitalistic of ya,” Nico said thoughtfully.

“You shouldn’t come.”

“I mean, we’ve been gifted with unlimited income and van-fixin’ and here ya go tryin’ to dry it up.”

“Yeah, got this curse called a conscience.”

“Hope yer proper ashamed of yourself.”

“Yeah. Anyway – it’s no place for humans, Nico. I can drive the van.”

“Yer kiddin’?” Nico snapped, outraged. “That’s _my_ baby!”

Nero gritted his teeth, trying to stay calm. Frustration was doing nasty things to his temper, and his demon side was nothing but frustrated, nowadays.

“Okay, then I can go out on foot.”

“Ha-ha, look at me, I’m Nero, I’m goin’ to search the whole Underworld _on foot_.” Nico pointed accusingly at him, avoiding the pavement with some high-level, last-minute swerving. “Fuck you, hero, I’m goin’ with ya and there’s _nothin’_ ya can do about it except say _thank you, you awesome weaponsmith_.”

“Nico! It’s dangerous, okay? I’m trying to protect you here!”

“I don’t need no protection when I got ya and the van, do I?”

In retrospect, Nero didn’t even know how he’d hoped he could get the last word with this hardass.

***

Lady and Trish were staying to take care of the Overworld. Lady had jokingly (?) invited him to take his time so she could rake in as much dough as she could before Dante got back; Trish had smirked and asked if he felt _lonely_ , which was just bullshit.

“I’m just doing it to stop this,” Nero stated firmly.

“Mm.” Pale, knowing eyes scoured his face. “Be careful, Nero.”

“What, you think I can’t hold my own in Hell?”

She shrugged.

“If you mean that there might be stronger demons than you in Hell, yes, there are. But not just that. The power inherent to the Underworld can be intoxicating. Your demon side will flourish there. So: be careful. Of them _and_ yourself.”

Later, he’d remember that “them,” the vagueness of it.

She knew which three beasts his humanity had to fear.


	2. Chapter 2

Going to Hell was easy and, according to Nico, they’d get out just fine if Vergil agreed to use the Yamato for them. He was powerful enough to cut through dimensions now, strengthened as he was by a healthy regimen of human blood and Qliphoth fruit (not a thought Nero was ever at ease entertaining).

Going _through_ Hell was… not as difficult as Nero thought, either. Most demons lacked the intelligence to lead organized attacks and the rest seemed too busy running around or fleeing to care about a wayward vehicle from the Overworld. Those that were smart enough to notice an intruder paid them little mind, however. Even with the window open, Nico and Nero’s human origins were hidden enough by the van’s demonic mods. Nero should probably start to worry about a machine so infused with magic it was overriding demons’ hunting senses, but there was _his_ other side, too: his own devil was apparently strong, and clearly broadcasting Sparda origins. If the demons weren’t ignoring them, they were shrieking in terror whenever Nero leaned too far out the window to catch their attention. He was confused for Dante and Vergil more than a few times, which definitely helped the “investigating through blunt force and raw threats” technique he was perfecting through this whole thing.

Dante and Vergil were still alive. That was good. They were rarely seen together. That was worrying. It was easy to track them down, though, given the chaos they were sowing.

Luckily for them, they found the twins before the twins found them.

***

The twins were fighting. At least, that’s what Nero thought at first, opening the van’s door mid-run to interrupt them, before something in him just – froze.

This was not a fight. Dante and Vergil hadn’t noticed them yet; they were hundreds of meters away still, a burst of color among the dark flatness of a lava plain, crystal-clear for Nero’s enhanced eyesight. The twins were clad in their truest form, monsters of light more than flesh, and Vergil was keeping his brother pinned to the ground as they mauled each other – flashes of knife-sharp teeth, blunt claws tearing flesh like paper.

Yet _something_ in Nero knew it wasn’t a fight, jealousy bursting through his chest a heartbeat before his human consciousness noticed the joining of their hips, the way Vergil pushed up _into_ Dante in sharp, ruthless thrusts that tore inhuman screams from his brother’s throat. Dante was clawing his twins to ribbons, pushing back as violently as he could against Vergil’s onslaught, legs and arms tightening around him – animal pleasure clear as a flame in his violent shivers, in the tension of his muscles, every twitch and noise he offered to Vergil. Nero shouldn’t have been able to read any affection in this display, but he did, and he _knew_ , with bone-deep certainty.

Then his consciousness caught up and he realized exactly what he was looking at: brothers – his _uncle_ and his _father_ – fucking, and part of him feeling _jealous_ at the sight like –

 _Fuck_.

Nero almost lost his grip on the van’s door, abruptly thrown back into reality by a surge of survival instincts.

“What are you _doin’_!” Nico screamed from the driver’s seat.

She braked at once, almost throwing Nero a few meters away. He managed to cling to the door, which somehow didn’t tear off from the van – thanks, demonic energy-fueled handiwork – and got back inside.

“Why are you gawkin’ for? Aren’t they the twins?” Nico demanded, almost chewing her cigarette out of emotion.

“They’re not fighting.”

His voice somehow sounded flat instead of wrecked. It was a good thing, probably. Nico stared incredulously at him and gestured toward the twins.

“Then what are they doin’, a friendly game of catch?”

“Fucking.”

Nico froze. She turned back toward the twins, something _interested_ burning in her gaze, and Nero snapped.

“Don’t you _dare_ treat it as a science project, Nico!”

Words were struggling to get out of his throat, to stumble into a shape that would express the feelings coiling around his guts. He felt cold, too hot, violently angry, unbearably hurt. He wanted to separate them, to bite them, to draw their blood and their gaze, he –

Fuck.

“That’s my _family_.”

Nero didn’t mean to sound that miserable. Nico patted his shoulder awkwardly.

“Okay, okay. Sorry. So… yer call, Nero. How do we approach this? We wait for them to finish?”

Yes. No. Nero’s instincts were screaming at him to separate them and he knew that there was a part of human moral outrage in this, which was _normal_ and _good_ , but there was also the jealousy that was so _wrong_ he was terrified to indulge it.

Nero opened his mouth to speak at the same time that Dante shivered in pleasure one last time, wings spreading and flapping in trembling ecstasy, and all thoughts bled from his mind. Vergil acted lightning fast then, moving to better pin his brother, but he was too late.

Dante rushed at Vergil and tore his throat out, blue blood spraying everywhere.

***

Vergil had managed to get up by the time Nero reached his side, kneeling on the ground and holding his still-regenerating throat. He raised his head and growled at Nero’s approach – a predator to another threat, not a shred of humanity in his face or in the deep, threatening subaudible sounds that curled in his throat. Something in Nero’s stomach dropped as the same time as his instincts bristled, tearing an answer from his lips – a growled challenge of his own. _Fuck_. He forced himself to step back, trying to keep his demonic pair of arms folded and non-threatening. Whatever happened, he was the most human, right now, and he needed to keep in control to get the twins back.

There was blood everywhere, Dante’s and Vergil’s. The smell was intoxicating – half-human, half-demon, food and rival, kin and –

“… Nero.”

Vergil’s voice was rough around the edges, as if he hadn’t spoken in a while. Nero tried to stay focused, human. His instincts were hyper aware of Vergil’s weakness in this instant. He could almost _taste_ his open flesh, his still-flowing blood. Vergil’s eyes on him had the sharpness of a blade, hard as steel or diamonds. Willpower, focused on him.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to get you back.”

Nero’s voice barely trembled. It was already a small victory. Next step: looking like he knew what he was doing.

“Why?”

Nero took a deep breath. “Why the fuck not” was a tempting answer, but one that wouldn’t get him very far.

“Because the both of you are making the demons flee to the Overworld.”

A low rumble: Vergil’s laugh, laced with demon harmonics.

“We _are_?”

“It’s not funny!” Nero snapped.

He felt on edge, unhinged. He needed time to process what he saw. He needed to get away from Vergil’s blood and to stop fixating on the exhausted tremble of Vergil’s muscles.

“Come back home. That’s – there’s no point in staying there and – and Dante has friends that miss him, and the agency.”

 _And I miss you. I want to know the both of you. I want to claim a place between you. Family_.

_I want –_

“How long has it been?”

Nero forced himself to focus.

“Since you left? More than a year. Since the beginning of the invasion, about five months.”

Vergil’s last wounds were closed now. The sharp smell of his blood was so thick that Nero could taste it.

“Can you afford to be here?”

“Of course not, you asshole! We’re keeping it under control, Lady and Trish and the others can hold their own, but this needs to stop yesterday! You’re coming with me. Where’s Dante?”

Vergil looked in the direction Dante had left, rubbing at his newly regenerated throat.

“He left to hunt further.”

“Hunt _what_? More demons? And why did – he tore your throat out, what the fuck is with that?”

“Nero.”

“What?”

Vergil’s form shimmered as he shifted, with difficulties, to a more human Triggered form – ageless beauty seamlessly enmeshed with monstrous fire.

“You shouldn’t be there.”

“What the _fuck_? Are you playing your ‘it’s none of your business’ game again? Because newsflash, you asshole, you’re my father and Dante’s my uncle! You’re my _family_! And you– ”

 _Left me behind. And you’re fucking each other_. Suddenly, Nero’s throat was so tight it was hard to breathe.

“It’s not that,” Vergil cut him off, voice unbearingly calm. “The demon world isn’t good for you. Your demon side has just emerged. You’re still learning to control it. They shouldn’t have let you go.”

“Can you stop underestimating me for a goddamn second?” Nero growled, exasperated. “I’m _fine_! You’re the one that’s in demon form!”

Vergil’s gaze sought his, razor-sharp.

“Am I?”

“What?”

“Touch your face.”

Nero obeyed and startled when he felt ridges under his finger – scales. Vergil’s knowing gaze made him want to punch or scream.

Nero clenched his fists and forced down the anger that boiled in his vein. He had to stay calm. He had to.

“Okay, so I’m in partial Trigger, that’s not the fucking point. The point is that you’re coming home with me.”

“… ‘Home’?”

Vergil didn’t even need real eyebrows to raise them at Nero. That took special skill. Nero’s arm-wings twitched; he clenched all four of his fists to fight off the temptation to punch his father, then winced when his claws drew blood.

He could _feel_ Vergil’s attention switching sharply to the closing wounds, anger rising hot and defensive in answer to the older demon’s attention – hunger.

“Yeah, _home_.” He forced himself to grit out. “The human world.”

“That is not –”

Nero gestured wildly in frustration, arm-wings bristling. Inhuman harmonics were sneaking into his voice, his skin shivering as his devil form grew closer to the surface, and he didn’t fucking care.

“Fuck you, it _is_ your home! It’s where Sparda _chose_ to live, where you were born and raised, where you made _me_ , and where your _family_ is living! The human world is _your_ home whether you want it or not, and I’m dragging you back here kicking and screaming if I need to!”

Vergil twitched and growled low, his posture switching to a more defensive one. Nero growled back before he could think, reflexively mimicking his father’s posture. He was aware that part of his anger was irrational and it was becoming increasingly hard to care.

“Nero, calm down.”

Nero punched Vergil.

***

It was so easy, giving in to anger. It felt as if Nero’d been trying to push an increasingly heavy boulder up a mountain and finally let it go, everything snapping naturally into place, rage and outrage and jealousy

(and desire)

erupting in a burst of white-hot violence. He didn’t think about winning: the only thing that mattered was unleashing everything at Vergil, forcing him to _take it_ , acknowledge it, everything that was Nero and that Vergil hadn’t known, every hurt and every contradiction and _everything_ as Vergil tore back at him, merciless as always, pain and blood spilled from both sides of the equation.

They were bad at mercy, the two of them.

It ended with Nero’s teeth in Vergil’s shoulder, so close to the neck it had taken all his willpower not to chomp down on the artery and _tear_. Vergil would have survived, Nero knew it. Even the worst of him couldn’t drive him to that level of bestiality, though, for what it was worth when he’d just tried to maul his father.

Vergil was breathing hard – panting. His mouth was a nightmare of needle teeth silhouetted against ice-blue fire. His blood was ambrosia on Nero’s tongue, sweet and rich, tasting like heat and madness.

Nero realized he was hard, arousal coiling in his belly tight enough to hurt. Human horror briefly tried to surface and was almost immediately drowned under a mix of lust and instinct.

He unclenched his jaw. Fresh blood flowed anew, flooding his mouth.

Vergil’s breath hitched; careful stillness under Nero. Waiting. Nero couldn’t understand, except he did.

This was submission, at least temporarily. This was Vergil yielding and anticipating.

This was –

Nero couldn’t think. He pressed against Vergil’s body, yearning for something so enormous he couldn’t name it.

Vergil sighed softly.

“Nero.”

A reproach, the sighing reproval of an elder. Irritation flared again in Nero, but then Vergil’s clawed hands, rough and leather-like, were sliding along his cheeks to the ridges of his jaw, touching his throat. He growled reflexively at that and the touch fluttered to his shoulders, his light-lined flanks, petting his arms and his wings.

There were strange, clicking purrs. Nero needed a moment to realize _he_ was the one making them as he increasingly leaned against the touch, making noises of approval and demand. Vergil made a short, low noise, demonic harmonics fueling heat and pleasure in the back of Nero’s mind. He pressed harder between Vergil’s legs, growling low at the sensation of it, and his father answered in deep harmonics, thighs twitching more open. This was _his_ , all of it, yet –

Hands caressing his cheeks, sliding into his hair – not soft, but firm, _caring_ , calling enough to the human in him that it slid through the haze of instincts and lust.

Blue fire staring into him, burning to ice.

“Come back to reason, foolish boy.”

Reality came crashing down on Nero like a ton of bricks. He tried to scramble away, the taste of blood suddenly shame-acidic on his tongue, but Vergil’s hands on his skull kept him in place. Trying to push away from his father without touching him was next to impossible, so Nero was forced to simply lie there all the while dying from the places where their bodies touched (which was _everywhere)_.

“Why?...” He asked, voice trembling, raw.

Vergil seemed to get the question, or the questions.

“I told you. The Underworld fuels your instincts, and you haven’t learned to master them yet. A dangerous mix. Trish should have come with you to help you control it.”

He let out a long, growling sigh. Something in Nero tensed hearing it.

“You are lucky that I spent these last years mastering my own instincts.”

“Lucky?”

The way Vergil could look at him with such “it’s-obvious-you-fool”-ness while Nero was basically lying between his legs was almost worthy of admiration. Or anger. Or both.

“Or I’d have let you have sex with me, of course.”

This time, Vergil let go when Nero jumped away.

“I’m your _son_!”

“I’m aware. That is part of the reason why I know you are from an excellent lineage, which makes you even more of a suitable partner.”

“What the _hell_? What’s the – that’s – it’s incest!”

Vergil growl-sighed and rose almost lazily, stretching his joints with a mix of human poise and animal fluidity. There were scars on his throat, unusually so; Nero’s chest clenched, buzzing with electric arousal, when he recognized the shape of his fangs. _Fuck._ No. He was horrified. He _hated it_.

Vergil was bearing his mark, _his_ brand. The proof that he’d accepted Nero – in the most twisted, demonic way.

_No._

“Incest means nothing to your demon side, Nero. What’s important is the power of your partner, and you’re strong enough.”

“We’re half-human.”

Whatever trembled in Nero’s voice made Vergil look at him closer, longer.

“We are. That is why I gave you the option to back off.”

 _That is why you didn’t care enough and could let me back off_. The thought was stupid, monstrous, and Nero couldn’t wipe it out of his mind.

“Nero. Focus. You came to get us back. You are as stubborn as your uncle–”

Nero snorted. Vergil ignored him.

“– So if you won’t see reason, I’ll come with you.”

What? So easily? No fighting, no endless arguing? Nero’s mind flashed back to what they’d almost done. Of course. Now that Vergil knew how little control he really had –

Shame, bone-deep, seeped down Nero’s gut.

“The problem will be Dante.” Vergil continued calmly, as if he didn’t perceive Nero’s self-loathing.

Nero snapped back to reality and stared at Vergil, perplexed.

“What do you mean, ‘the problem is Dante’? You – huh – maybe you fought, but he’ll come if we call him, right? He’s going to want to come home, what with all the pizza and music he’s missing, and Trish and Lady redecorating the agency...”

Vergil shook his head, which emphasized his bite mark in a way that made Nero’s head swim briefly, like a piece of flotsam in too-deep water.

“That’s not it. He’s like you. He repressed his demon side all his life, and then he both accessed it at a level previously impossible to him and was put in a situation where he could indulge it – in Hell, with me.”

Oh. Okay. Fuck.

“Why didn’t you stop him? You knew!”

Vergil took a second to answer.

“It wasn’t a problem.”

“Wasn’t a – your brother was turning into a demon!”

“My brother was always a demon,” Vergil snapped back. “ _We_ ’ve always been demons, you included. The only difference is the length of the leash you keep the beast on. Dante let go. It wasn’t a problem. The only one he could hurt was me, and I can hurt him back.”

There was something in these words that Nero couldn’t parse – undercurrents of some emotion deep enough to lace Vergil’s voice with quiet intensity. He tried to focus. For now, the cold fear of losing control again was enough to keep his mind relatively clear despite the anger and ( _damn it_ ) arousal, but intrusive thoughts were still lurking at the edge of his consciousness.

“Vergil. How do you get back when you uh – let the leash go?”

Vergil shrugged.

“When I meet a situation that requires human intelligence or calls for a human heart.”

Nero snorted.

“Yeah, I catch Dante, you show him a compelling chess puzzle.”

Vergil made a low, rumbling noise which Nero belatedly realized was a chuckle.

“A sound strategy. That said, I think your mere presence will do him good.”

“My being here? Why?”

“He cares for you. He wants to protect you. Those are human feelings.”

Something tightened in Nero’s chest.

“He cares for you, too.”

It was probably a stupid thing to say. The only time he’d seen the twins together had been when they tried their best to skewer each other, and the moments afterward – but _those_ moments, the easy way with which they moved and breathed like two offshoots of the same soul, had been enough. The twin must care for each other. They looked like they understood each other so well. Like they belonged –

Jealousy bit Nero’s heart, and then guilt at the obscenity of the feeling. Vergil shrugged.

“We’ve been fighting since our birth. We’re good at being monsters together. Better than at being human. I don’t call him back to humanity: I entice him to indulge.”

There he went _again_ , being dramatic. In that regard, he was still absolutely V. Nero fought back an eyeroll.

“Okay, yeah, but you’re going to be human, now. _We_ are going to get him back. I can’t get him on my own and – you know him better than me.”

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Dante had always kept him at arm’s length. Maybe Vergil mostly knew kid!Dante and demon!Dante, but he was still better informed than Nero, whose knowledge mainly relied on Lady’s complaints and Trish’s terse comments.

“Let’s hunt,” Vergil answered simply.

That was far better than overflowing with feelings, so they went to stalk Dante.

On the way, Vergil ate one of the demons that attacked them “to recover his strength” in big, bloody chunks as they fought and it was, at least, gruesome enough that _part_ of Nero calmed down in the libido department.

(Part of him found it hot, though.)

( _Fuck_ demon instincts.)

***

Dante was not _that_ hard to find: one just had to look for flames and desolation. Nero’s uncle used discretion with – well – discretion, leaving only ruins and ashes behind. Nero warned Nico he and Vergil would be going on ahead; she’d follow them when it was safe.

“If you hurt Nero again, I’m gutting you myself,” she’d warned Vergil with uncharacteristic soberness.

Vergil had smirked. _Asshole_.

“I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

Nico had seemed like she’d wanted to add more, possibly with more colorful expletives, but Nero had said goodbye and metaphorically dragged Vergil away before the discussion could turn tense.

They followed Dante’s tracks, occasionally slowed down by the remains of his handiwork – furious demons, agitated wild beasts and frustrated reinforcements. Tiredness caught up to Nero sooner than he wanted; he tried to ignore it, and got a few stupid wounds from the sluggishness. It hurt, it frustrated him, it was so fucking _stupid_ of him and _again_ –

Nero Triggered. It wasn’t his usual shape, it wasn’t his usual attacks; it was instincts and rage and the frustration of a cornered beast –

And the pleasure of inflicting pain and death on those who’d hurt him.

Later, he’d remember only bits and pieces, the exaltation of combat and the gleeful happiness of pain taken to be returned twofold. Part of his consciousness was still aware enough that he didn’t attack Vergil until the last demon fell, leaving him without any targets except the strong, threatening hybrid that had _hurt_ him before, whose power threatened his, who bore his mark and needed to be brought to his knees again. _An ally_ , part of him remembered, before it got drowned by the bloodlust.

Vergil had been expecting his attack. Nero in this state was no better than an animal, too instinctive to use guns or Devil Breakers, easily tricked by the technique of an older demon, and Vergil knew how to use clones and his teleporting abilities to get Nero precisely where he wanted him.

With his nape easily accessible to Vergil.

A clawed fist grabbed Nero’s long hair, jerking him to a painful stop. He tried to pivot for an attack, but Vergil had already sunk his teeth into his neck.

Something exploded in Nero, so big it jerked him out of his berserker state. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but focus on the pain and the _pleasure_ of the sensation – both arousal and deep, unfathomable elation.

Someone made a high, keening noise. Nero belatedly realized it was him. He didn’t remember what he was supposed to feel about that.

Slowly, fangs still sunk into his neck, Vergil brought them both the ground. Clawed hands started petting his back and shoulders then, making Nero startle at first, and then tremble, until he got used to the contact and the fact it didn’t mean pain.

Vergil kept touching him, both gentle and firm. Safe, but demanding obedience. Slowly, Nero calmed down enough that his survival instincts reluctantly allowed for the return of human thoughts.

A mix of shame and horror cut his purring short. He tried to straighten; Vergil’s lingering hand turned into a vice grip on his shoulder, teeth digging deeper into Nero’s nape – shards of painful ecstasy hitting his consciousness all at once.

Pure instinct zigzagged through Nero’s nerves, his body going limp before he could even think. What the hell? His first conscious reflex was to try to get up anyway, but Vergil’s grip tightened again.

“Vergil –”

A growl answered him. Okay. Got it. Maybe Vergil had a better grip on it than Dante, but he was still much less in control than he pretended. Nero needed to help him get it back under control. The thing was, he had no idea how to do that.

No. He knew. He remembered Vergil’s gentleness when Nero had bitten him – his acceptance. Feeding the predator’s need, pacifying him with compliance and care to better control it.

Nero was just terrified to do it.

He forced himself to relax, trying to breathe deep and slow. He could control it. Dante would mock him endlessly if he learned Nero had had so much trouble.

Imagining his uncle’s smug smile was enough to give Nero the motivation he’d needed. He wasn’t fucking _deadweight_ , the _twins_ were the dumbasses that he was going to drag back.

Nero closed his eyes, trying to pull from instinctive knowledge. The same strange, clicking purr he’d made the last time escaped his lips – a bit lower now, almost a chirping. Pacifying, he knew at once. A stronger demon was keeping him pinned and controlled, waiting for him to concede defeat. If Nero wanted to calm it down, it was best to fold his wings, to keep his head down, to show he wouldn’t attack. No sudden moves – he didn’t want to fight this beast, now that he’d marked it and been accepted, now that it was _his_ , at least partly, Nero’s smell mixed with another scent, another male, so close to Vergil’s own flavor it made his senses confused – no mark though, only the musk of sex, lingering –

And Nero wanted it, too – the intimacy, the closeness, the pride of having been wanted and claimed. He wanted Vergil’s hands on him to turn frantic and trembling. He knew he could, if he was soothing enough, that he could pacify the other, touch him in turn, demand what he needed…

 _Hell no_. Nero took a deep breath. He was in control. Even though the bite was a dull, pleasurable pressure down his belly, even though every inch of his body was clamoring to be touched, even though he could feel how his demonic shape had unsheathed and – something wet was dripping between his thighs, which was an anatomical discovery he’d question later.

Vergil’s jaw had relaxed on his nape. He was taking in long, hissing breaths, and Nero realized he was trying to calm himself too. He was coming back to humanity.

“Vergil.”

Okay, syllables. This was a success. Vergil made a sound that was half-growling half-clicking; Nero felt instinctive happiness, which meant it was probably a good thing.

He wanted to curl up against Vergil, to rub his scent all over him. _That_ was a nope. Words. He was going to use words.

“You with me, here?” Nero asked tentatively.

There was a silence then, with a sigh, Vergil finally released his nape – reflexively licking at the blood that seeped from the bite, tonguing at each incision. Nero couldn’t help the sound that stumbled out of his lips anymore than he could have stopped breathing.

Vergil stopped. Breathed. Let go of Nero, slowly.

“Well.”

“Indeed,” Nero replied sarcastically.

He felt hot, hypersensitive. The place where Vergil had bitten him pulsed with a need that was echoing in every nerve of his skin, deep inside himself. He’d always thought of “needing sex” as a hyperbole, but right now, he either needed to maul or to fuck something in the next five minutes.

“Do you want a moment to jerk off?”

It was one thing to think it; another to hear Vergil’s calm, cold voice state it as a fact of life. Nero flushed deep, opening his mouth for a reflexive denial before he thought better of it.

“Yeah. But can you – I mean, you are...”

“I’ll give you some privacy.”

Of course, it was all pretense. Vergil just walked a few feet away and plopped down behind a fleshy rock ridge, his presence and his smell far more tortuous than if he’d stayed near enough that Nero could touch and smell him to his heart's content.

It was _unfair_ , his instincts whined. He kept fixating on the faint bite mark on Vergil’s throat, the proof of ownership his father had conceded to him. He kept remembering the way Vergil had touched him, took ownership of him, biting deep until Nero submitted.

He kept –

Nero tried to focus his fantasies on something proper. He usually took some time just to touch himself before he jerked off, but this time he couldn’t help but go straight for his cock, any unease at the ridges and sensitive light-filled lines vanishing before his lust. He tried to think about Kyrie, but his imagination instantly supplied blood and violence and she couldn’t – he couldn’t think of her like that.

Kyrie had always encouraged him to get what he needed – the roughness, the neediness she didn’t want nor deserve – from others, if he’d wanted. She’d probably never thought it would apply to this kind of situation, though. Guilt mixed with pleasure as Nero caressed himself with increasing harshness, unable to prevent himself from imagining Vergil’s long, strong fingers intertwining with his or questing down, between the wet folds that opened easily under his claws.

It should have hurt, sharp bone against sensitive membranes. It only felt better. Nero moved faster, harder, shaking, too needy to think about noise or foreplay. The edge of pain at his roughness sent a spasm of pure pleasure down his spine (and Vergil would be just as rough, unrelenting, and Dante would pretend to be slow and lazy but then he’d fingerfuck him deep and fast until Nero felt raw and open for him) and then he was pressing down harder, pushing his claws inside of himself, stroking the open light along his dick, hurting and keening and loving every second of it until orgasm swallowed him whole.


	3. Chapter 3

That night, they slept in the van. They had washed in a stream of blood-like water; Nero was feeling miserable, both from human guilt and from his demonic instincts’ pissiness that Vergil didn’t smell like him anymore.

His father had jerked off too – the scent of pleasure obvious once he’d joined Nero. They were very carefully _not_ talking about that. Nico’s very inquisitive and interested glances were already painful enough: Nero was downright _relieved_ when he and Vergil left to hunt again.

“So,” he asked as they climbed up the ruins of a temple of bones. “Why is Dante running from you?”

“He’s not running away. We’re… We _were…_ I suppose the word is ‘playing.’ We each conquer territories and then fight for them, or just provoke the other by hunting near the borders of his area.”

“And then you, huh –”

“Have sex, yes. When we wish to.”

Nero stayed silent, trying to parse his feelings. On a purely intellectual level, he was aware that he was supposed to be horrified by Vergil’s indifference about the topic. On a practical level, though, he was getting used to the idea far too quickly for it to be any good.

“Does anybody do it for you?” He asked finally.

Vergil threw him a quick glance and then resumed climbing, stepping up the strange and infinitely displeasing staircase of skulls.

“No. Demons favor two things: strength and a form similar enough to theirs that they can be sure that the offspring is going to inherit desirable qualities.”

Nero almost dropped the gigantic tibia he was using to force a path through the bone rubble.

“You’re not – Dante’s – you’re not going to get _pregnant_ , are you?”

“Of course not. I’m talking demonic lust, not a life plan. Dante is incredibly powerful, resembles me, possesses some unique abilities, and thus my instincts find him a suitable partner. You are strong, healthy, and… thus the same happens, too.”

Vergil’s voice was careful and guarded and he was definitively hiding things, here. Nero didn’t press, because his father had just casually dropped that he found him fuckable and that – huh – that was _something_ to process.

“Does Dante _want_ this? Consciously. He’s aware that he’s fucking you?”

“Yes.”

Vergil wouldn’t have lied about something like that, but Nero couldn’t wrap his head around it. He reflexively touched his nape, where Vergil’s teeth had left small, protruding scars.

Their path was obstructed by a massive veil of spiderweb-like silk. Vergil tore it easily, Judgment Cut-ting it with deadly ease. Nero helped him dispose of the massive spider-toad things that rushed to defend their lair. It was a small comfort to know he wouldn’t get hard, wet or whatever any time things got a little messy.

Only from family. _Much_ better, he thought ironically.

“You’re not going to keep the scars,” Vergil said suddenly.

“What?”

Vergil lightly touched the side of his own neck, where Nero had marked him. Nero flushed, again. The sight of the bite filled him with a satisfaction he really, really didn’t want to deal with.

“Marking bites have to be renewed. Before you ask, they’re a way to brand someone as… kin, but in a less – human sense than you know.”

Nero snorted despite himself.

“More incesty?”

Vergil gave him the shadow of a smile.

“Clever boy.”

“Thanks. Got it from my daddy.”

They shared a smirk. The spider-things territory led to a gaping chasm of shiny, fluid nothingness; manmade (demon-made?) bridges oscillated lightly across the abyss, molded from something that was not quite stone.

“Incidentally, your uncle can’t get the hang of marking. You’re already a brighter demon than him.”

“Huh. Guess I’m flattered.”

Vergil didn’t answer. Maybe he was focusing on Dante’s faraway presence, the sign of his wanton destruction less obvious now. Maybe he just sucked at feeding a conversation. V, too, had been a quiet presence at the back of the van, usually content with listening or smirking in the background.

“How can’t you not know how to bite someone?” Nero asked after a while.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Vergil answered quietly.

He looked at Nero, something hard to decipher darkening his gaze.

“He’s a fool. Whenever he tries to mark me, he ends up ripping a chunk of flesh instead.”

“That’s why, when I came, he uh –”

“No, that was for... pleasure. Trying to kill or maim your partner as a show of dominance, since it will heal.”

Vergil glanced sharply at Nero.

“Whether as a demon or a human, Dante is basically hopeless outside of fighting, napping or mocking his enemies. He doesn’t know proper niceties and he doesn’t know how to try, either. If he aims for your throat, I will rip him away. Do not try to help Dante then. I know you’re brave. I will trust you to understand when that bravery is foolishness.”

Nero grinned at him to better hide the stupid, warm feelings that buzzed like butterflies in his heart.

“Aw, you really do care!”

Vergil just gave him the most hilarious look of contempt and then Triggered to fly ahead.

***

Dante was harder to track now that he’d decided to play hide-and-seek with his brother, but he couldn’t fully erase the weight of his presence. They spotted him in a cave that had been, previously, a labyrinth of tunnels worming into a strange stone-like material. Dante’s efforts had turned it into a hole-ridden chaos. Sometimes, the ground shook, indicating that part of his new lair had just collapsed.

Vergil was tense. Low growls escaped him from time to time, the unconscious reflex of a threatened predator. Nero had attempted to take the lead a few times, only to be stopped by a clawed wing deploying in his way or catching him by the collar – he was about sixty percent sure that it was a matter of instinct-inspired pride rather than absolute logic, though, given that _his_ demonic blood was whispering at him that he had to walk first to establish his dominant role in the situation.

On the one hand: yeah, Nero wanted to make his father submit, even now.

On the other hand: they would catch Dante more easily if they didn’t fight about petty shit, so he let it go after the first few times.

“So, my plan was that you keep him pinned and I talk him down,” he suggested to Vergil.

“Violence and improvisation. This suits me.”

Vergil’s tone was deadpan, but articulate and human. This was good. Nero needed to keep him – them – as grounded as he could, because he was absolutely sure they’d sink a few levels down the humanity ladder as soon as Dante showed up.

“You know, I used to think you were an intellectual.”

“Today’s lesson is that a taste for art and an appetite for violence are, thankfully, non-exclusive.”

“Thanks, teach.”

Vergil chuckled, and then stopped abruptly. Nero almost asked him what was wrong, but then he felt it – Dante’s approach, the presence of a powerful demon rushing toward them accompanied by a ruckus of broken walls. He fought back the urge to Trigger, forcing himself to be as human as he could while bracing for impact.

“Think Dante has heard about load-bearing walls?” He asked tensely.

Vergil snorted.

“Do you think Dante has heard of ‘safety’? We can endlessly regenerate.”

“Maybe, but I’m not too keen on getting buried alive. If you feel the caves collapsing, can you teleport us with Yamato?”

Vergil’s answer was cut short by Dante’s noisy and rock shard-filled arrival.

Dante always made spectacular entrances. He didn’t disappoint this time either, bursting in clad in his most monstrous form, erupting in a chaos of half-melted rocks to go straight for Vergil. His brother had expected it and slashed at him, sending him reeling back in a spray of blood.

Nero contained both his protective instincts and his outraged pride, letting the two hash it out. It _was_ beautiful, in a way, now that he felt no killing intent from either of them. They were playing, flirting with claws, teeth and steel, flesh and magic – a ruthless violence that Nero _knew_ was demon intimacy.

An intimacy that he had no part in.

Jealousy, grief and rage tore through Nero. His flesh rippled, struggling toward a shape that would allow him to intercept the two – to remind them he was _here_ and he’d _won_ against them and he deserved it, all of it, what they were giving to each other, he’d earned it!

A shred of human clarity caught Nero back by the skin of his teeth. What had he been thinking? He (had marked Vergil _first_ because Dante didn’t know how to do it, petty satisfaction tempering a fraction of the envy he felt) didn’t want to have _anything_ to do with that (beautiful, seamless) thing that they had going on. Maybe incest wasn’t a problem in Happy Demonland, but Nero was (less and less) human. He didn’t –

(He wanted it so fucking much) He hated watching this. What was Vergil waiting for? Oh yeah: he’d forgotten about the “pin Dante so we can bring him back to humanity” thing. He was too busy having _fun_. Flirting with his _brother_.

The urge for violence was growing, a dark impulse in the back of Nero’s mind. He tried to breathe. He needed to search for an opening, a way to remind Vergil of their objective –

Suddenly, Dante growled high and dangerous, the sound echoing in furious harmonics across the shadows of his voice. The more echoes, the more vivid the emotions, Nero knew, and _that_ was livid fury. Vergil was briefly taken aback, raising Yamato just in time to get his arm ripped off rather than his throat. Lava-red eyes suddenly bore into Nero, shining with hateful hatred – only to widen with recognition.

“Nero?”

It was more a growl than a name, but it _was_ a word – it was recognition, human and startled. Nero felt a burst of hope chase after his lingering anger.

“Dante! I –”

Of course, it was at this point that Vergil “I have far more control over my demon instincts than Dante” took advantage of his brother’s distraction to bite off part of his throat.

Nero reacted out of pure instinct, punching his father off Dante’s neck. Vergil was too focused to notice the attack, much less evade it, and was thrown against a wall while Dante, _the motherfucker_ , took advantage of Nero’s lowered guard to chomp on his shoulder, tearing off flesh and muscle.

Pain flared up instantly, pure and unaltered this time, mixed with panic. Nero grabbed Dante’s monstrous face and glowing horns with four arms, sinking his claws in Dante’s scalp in his effort to keep his uncle away, and almost bit him back – nonono, _talking_ , human-ing, he had to be the human one –

“Dante! It’s me!”

Dante stopped struggling at once. Lava-red eyes sought Nero’s, clung to him with animal confusion.

“Nero...”

“That’s me. Don’t hurt me.”

It wasn’t a plea, it was an _order_ , and that made all the difference, at least for Nero’s ego. Dante’s gaze scoured his face, his stance uncertain.

Vergil had walked up to them, standing near Dante. His brother growled low; Vergil answered by a soft, almost purring noise, and touched his arm with careful slowness. Nero saw Dante’s twitching and hurried up to talk before violence could erupt again.

“C’mon, Dante, I came to get you.”

Vergil stepped forward. He’d switched to his True form once again, but his gentleness toward Dante seemed to indicate that he’d gotten back under control. Nero forced down the alarm that he felt. No reason. This was (a powerful demon that had hurt him before, but Nero had made him submit, and he was bearing Nero’s mark and Nero was bearing his) _fine_.

Dante glanced at Vergil very briefly, still growling, though a bit lower. Part of Nero was screaming from the proximity and power of the threat standing in front of him. He forced himself to loosen his grip on his uncle’s head and horns.

“It’s okay, Dante. Vergil is okay, too. He won’t hurt you, okay?

The ground shook slightly. The sound was soon accompanied by the sprinkle of dust falling from the ceiling. _Fuck_.

“But we need to get away from there. Vergil, can you teleport us?”

Vergil stepped back and slashed a portal on the side. Nero carefully took Dante’s arm and pulled him toward it, briskly passing the frontier of light.

Teeth touched his nape as soon as he set foot on safer ground. Nero’s instincts took over: he bolted a few meters away, turning to face Dante.

It should have been hard to tell when his face was a mask of fangs and fire, but Dante was definitively grinning. Irritated, though. There was tense anger in the lines of his body.

“Scared?”

Nero growled, refusing to show any weakness or unease in front of this new face .

“Nope.”

Dante cocked his head. A predator having fun. Nero would be the one to wreck him.

Vergil stepped out behind Dante, closing the portal behind him.

“Dante. Nero came to bring us home. Your friends are waiting for you. Lady, Trish and the others.”

The way Dante turned his head toward Vergil was just a bit too quick to be perfectly human, too fluid and animal. Nero took a startled breath, suddenly realizing he’d almost slipped back from humanity. _Fuck_ the Underworld, he wanted to go back to his homeland, where the ambient energy didn’t push him toward bestial madness, where Dante was just an annoying trickster, where Vergil was an unknown Nero could map without claws and teeth.

“Home,” Dante repeated. “Hell?”

Vergil cocked an eyebrow at him.

“All those years posturing and you mean to tell me you’ve finally switched to my side? A little late for that, brother.”

Dante tried to grab him. Vergil phased back, already raising Yamato. Nero reacted purely on instinct, punching the two assholes with his wings before they could fight.

That was a mistake, for two reasons.

The first was that he’d sworn he would act as pacifying as possible. Punching two aggressive demons on the verge of combat was not pacifying.

The second was that it focused their attention on him. One fraction of a second later, Nero was biting the dust and, what the hell, Vergil and Dante were biting _him_ – teeth on his shoulder, the both of them. The pain was one thing, he’d survived worse, but the powerlessness was another when two strong demons were ganging up on him. Dante was quick, teeth a searing burn through Nero’s flesh, while Vergil just kept him pinned in place, trying to assert his hierarchical place, and Nero _couldn’t_ move because Dante broke one of his arms when he tried to get retaliation and Vergil was holding down two of the others. Dante bit his last free hand when Nero clawed at his torso and panic rose all at once, a reminder of another darkness, of lying pinned by weakness and impossible pain with a torn limb as an indifferent wanderer walked away –

 _These_ noises Nero hadn’t intended, yet couldn’t bite back, gasping cries on a frequency so low a human couldn’t hear as cold sweat beaded up on his skin. He was thrown back to That Moment and he knew he wasn’t back there and he knew he could grow limbs back now but he was (there, yet)(trapped)( _he couldn’t get away_ ) drowning in memories he shouldn’t chase.

Suddenly the pressure on him let up, the twins’ grip loosening and their weight getting less crushing. Vergil was rumbling softly in his ear, spiked tongue licking at his neck, jaw, cheek – petting him, soothing him, _caring_ for him. Dante had stopped moving, silent, and finally his voice rose human and scared.

“Nero –”

It broke off. Dante’s weight rose off of him and Nero reflexively tried to grab him, instinctively certain that the hybrid was about to run off.

“Dante!”

“ _Dante_ ,” Vergil growled. “Nero needs you.”

“What?”

They’d both spoken at the same time, glaring at Vergil with the same incredulity, and he welcomed their gaze with the same utter indifference.

“If you flee, he’ll chase you down. You know him. Stay here.”

“I – Vergil, I almost tore his throat out!”

Dante wasn’t so expressive, usually. Raw, angry. Vergil’s hand had replaced his tongue on Nero, caressing his face.

“You did tear his throat out. Still, he’ll chase you if you flee. He doesn’t want you gone. Fleeing will only satisfy your own fear of accountability.”

Dante growled low. Suddenly he was in front of Vergil, kneeling to grab him by the neck. Vergil twitched with the obvious urge to strike back, but snapped back in control and glared at him.

“If you want to atone, you won’t flee. Hurt me if you need it, but do what Nero wants.”

“Oh? Suddenly, _you_ ’re the one that knows Nero best?”

“Nero can talk for himself,” Nero cut in sharply, sitting up.

The twins shut up and looked at him, which was a meager satisfaction. He still felt shaken up, mind torn by the fangs of panic. Weak. Stupid. If he’d been stronger back then, Vergil wouldn’t ever have had the opportunity to tear his arm off. To bring him so low.

He was still weak and afraid. They’d kept him down so fucking easily. He hated it. Hated himself.

“Vergil’s right. I’ve come to retrieve the both of you, so the both of you are coming with me. I don’t care if you lost control, Dante, and if you care, learn not to fucking do it again, that’s all.”

His voice was still shaking, but he was okay. Vergil was still kneeling at his side, a big, monstrous presence of light and power – yet his father was touching him in a way that soothed every animal instinct within him, not _gentle_ but _caring_ , attentive.

Dante clenched his fist. Vergil nuzzled at Nero’s hair – long once again, fuck, he really had to stop Triggering when he didn’t mean to. Nero should probably protest his touch, but it felt so good that he couldn’t bring him to do it. He was cared for. He was soothed, petted. Vergil’s attention was on him, was focused into calming the pain and the fear and making him feel better – on making him feel _safe_. Both the beast and the human relished in this, and Nero couldn’t fight against what all of him had craved for so long.

Dante adverted his gaze.

“You marked each other.”

His voice was low and rough. Vergil’s hand stopped on Nero’s throat, where he’d bitten him. The contact made Nero shiver, new arousal suddenly blooming in his chest – no, it’d already been here from the moment Vergil had started touching him, he realized, only it’d felt so natural he hadn’t noticed it until then.

“We did. Nero’s demon instincts are strong enough that he tried it on his own.”

“Oh yeah? And yours?”

Vergil shrugged.

“I wanted to do it.”

The twins looked at each other, a silent exchange. Dante was tense, poised as if to strike or bolt.

Wait. Was he _jealous_? The idea was ridiculous. It was also very possible. And if Dante left from jealousy – they’d found him easily because he had wanted to be found, to play, but if he tried to stay hidden…

Nero couldn’t stay in the Underworld. He came in assured he was the most human of the three, but he felt rage and need and bloodlust all the same. Giving in to his instincts was too easy, too natural. He would lose himself without even noticing it here, and that was terrifying.

The twins couldn’t stay in the Underworld. They’d end up beasts, playing and killing and fucking with too much gleefulness to notice the part of themselves that fell away.

“Don’t mess with him,” Dante said finally.

There was a snarl in his voice, a growl at the bottom of his throat. Vergil cocked his head. Perhaps it was because he was distracted, but his hands had grown lighter on Nero’s skin, and yet his claws caught slightly on the ridges and scales of Nero’s throat and shoulders – slight hints of pain that went straight to Nero’s crotch. He should push Vergil away, shouldn’t he? But (it felt good) wouldn’t it – change the balance of power? Distract Vergil’s attention from Dante? Maybe it was better to wait. To try to hide the hitches in his breath when the softness or the sharpness sent electric pleasure fizzling through Nero’s veins.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“ _Because_ he –!” Dante gestured with frustration, fishing for words. “Leave him alone, Vergil. Let him have his human life with his human girlfriend.”

“Spoken as if our lives–”

“You know I can hear you?” Nero cut in, irritated. “I’m not a kid. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t want Vergil to fuck you,” Dante said bluntly.

At least his posture and his words were fully human. Nero flushed hard, pushing Vergil’s hands away with renewed shame. Vergil made an irritated sound.

“That’s none of your business, Dante.”

He wasn’t denying it. Something awful in Nero exploded in twisted glee as he sought a proper, moral answer.

“What the _fuck_ – I, I’m your _son_!”

Vergil looked at him with something like annoyance.

“We already went over this, Nero. Incest has no meaning for a demon. You’re strong, willful, clever and beautiful. I would like to have you and I will reach out to take what I want.”

He glanced at his brother.

“Dante prefers to play human. You, Nero, knew how to mark what you wanted as _yours_ from the moment your instincts took over.”

It wasn’t true. It’d been – it’d been foolish, irrational instincts seeking safety or… or something else. Nero’s mind was a mess of confusion, fear, arousal and _you’re strong, willful, clever and beautiful and I want you_.

It was incest. It was bad. Kyrie was pure and kind she deserved – she’d always deserved someone as good as her, and Nero was far from it, fought and killed with pleasure, but this –

Dante growled. The sound was deep, laced with a nuance of deadly harmonics, and Nero’s instincts snapped toward the more urgent goal of _survival_.

“Nero has a human life. I won’t let you destroy it!”

“That’s why you kept away from him,” Vergil stated with apparent calm. “You didn’t want to waste his ‘human life.’ All the while, he was running after you and you were keeping him at arm’s length to ‘protect him’ from what he wanted.”

“You asshole!” Dante roared, and launched himself at his brother.

 _It’s wasn’t true_. Nero hadn’t wanted – he’d wanted Dante recognition. He’d wanted another fight, and Dante’s approving hand on his shoulder.

And yet he’d dreamed of fucking Dante and being fucked by Dante and the taste of blood like aphrodisiac on his tongue. He’d dreamed of Vergil as V and as himself, clawing red lines on pale skin through shivers of pleasure –

But those had been _dreams_. His real self wasn’t like this. His real self was…

Nero didn’t know what his real self was like anymore but he couldn’t waste time on this. The twins were tearing at each other, fighting with hate this time – swords both summoned and real, lines of fire and magic exploding through the air. Nero’s first reflex was to throw himself into the fray, but – no. This time, he’d wait for the both of them to be tired. No more negotiating. No more discussions that made him hesitate. His morals couldn’t crumble in a few days of Underworld.

 _You’re beautiful._ You _know how to mark what you want_.

Twisted compliments. They shouldn’t have been so good at getting under his skin, but they did, fueling a high inside him.

Nero couldn’t think about that. He had to keep an eye on the twins until they were exhausted enough, keeping any intruding demons at bay, and then he’d physically haul them to the van...

Dante had kept him at arm’s length, Vergil had said. For his sake. Couldn’t he have fucking _explained_? Or, at least, given him a convincing lie, _something_?

Fuck. Focus.

 _You know how to take what you want_.

Nobody had ever praised Nero except for Kyrie and her family, and they’d all been kind and naive enough to compliment easily. Vergil’s words hit harder. They spoke of an approval he craved. It was hard not to let the words slither inside of his mind, encouraging the worst of him.

He had to be kind, for Kyrie. He had to be good, for Kyrie. But –

 _You’re strong, willful, clever and beautiful and you take_ –

Vergil was slowly gaining an edge over Dante. The latter’s utter chaos of a style was even messier than usual, Royal Guards failed one after the other, while Vergil fought cold and composed as usual. Nero watched with bated breath, entranced. They were Sparda’s sons, feared enough that half of Hell was fleeing before them; their power was verging on a natural phenomenon, a tornado or an earthquake. He’d reach that level one day. He’d make them acknowledge it.

Why had he said to Vergil that he’d make him submit, back then?

Inch by inch, cut by cut, Vergil was weakening Dante. He wasn’t going for big, showy attacks but for quick slashes, blood-letting destruction, rains of swords to keep eroding his brother’s composure. It was beautiful to watch them both, despite Dante’s erraticness. It was power and destruction and bloodlust and an intense, focused fight for dominance.

All of a sudden, it was over, Dante pinned to the rotting ground by a series of summoned swords, his arms trapped by the blue light that dug deep into them. Vergil knelt in front of him and Nero stopped breathing when his father sat on his uncle’s thighs.

“Fuck you!” Dante growled, his wings beating violently.

“Dante.”

Vergil leaned in, his own wings catching his brother’s, and bit his throat. Dante shuddered.

“Vergil, let go!”

Vergil rose, needle teeth bloody with his twin’s blood. His blue eyes caught Nero’s and he couldn’t avert his gaze.

“Nero. Do you want to come and calm Dante?”

“What the _hell_ , Vergil?” Dante growled.

Maybe Vergil was asking for Nero’s words, but maybe he was asking for Nero’s hands. He had a feeling that the ambiguity was deliberate, layered with possibilities. Vergil was offering him a choice.

Nero’s instincts zeroed on Dante’s position, on his vulnerability, on the blood on his throat. He wanted to taste that blood and tear that flesh, to imprint his mark on Dante’s skin so Dante would have no choice but to accept his existence, his presence, his desire –

Nero walked to the twins and crouched next to Dante. Through the inhuman mien, his uncle looked scared and it called to Nero’s demonic instincts in a bad way, a dangerous way.

He touched Dante’s cheek and resisted the urge to stroke it.

“Dante. We’re going home. I’m not – I won’t do anything you don’t want to, okay? Take a more human form, please.”

Dante’s form shimmered and shifted, light and flesh mixing in beautiful and horrifying ways as the hybrid tried to reclaim his original shape. In the end, he managed to get down to his normal Trigger form, human-like beauty catching Nero’s breath.

Dante was so handsome. Nero’d missed seeing him so much. He wanted to see him smile, to nuzzle up against his jaw, and it hurt almost physically.

Dante didn’t want this.

Nero forced himself to smile. His hand felt awkward on Dante’s cheek: too close, yet dangerous to take away, because then maybe they’d see him tremble.

“Okay, good. Think you can go more human?”

Dante cracked a half-smile.

“You’re bossy, you know that?”

“Yeah, that’s me. C’mon, show me your ugly mug.”

Dante’s flesh shimmered and twisted for a few seconds before he shook his head.

“Sorry, that’s the best you’re going to get from me for now.”

What if the twins couldn’t turn human again? Nero tried to restrain his worry. Maybe it was only the atmosphere of the Underworld. Maybe they just needed practice. He looked over to Vergil; his father’s face was unreadable, a mask of sharp teeth and blue fire. Was he angry? Nero felt a pang of regret, then anger at his regret. He didn’t _care_ about Vergil's opinion (he did, immensely).

“Vergil, can _you_ turn back?”

“I don’t see the point.”

Nero restrained the urge to roll his eyes from sheer frustration. It was as if whenever he managed to reach one of the twins, the other instantly shut him – shut _them_ – out.

“You know that the more demonic you are, the hardest it is to control your instincts.”

“I have no difficulties controlling mine.”

Vergil rose fluidly, dissipating the swords stuck in Dante’s flesh. Nero’s eyes clung briefly to the bite mark on his father’s throat. When he met Dante’s eyes, he knew that they’d both looked at it.

Dante patted his shoulder.

“Okay. So where are we going?”

“We’re joining with Nico and leaving by the Yamato, if that’s alright with Vergil.”

Vergil answered with a soft grunt that probably meant “yes.” Dante grinned.

“Fine by me! Where’s your gunsmith?”

Nero looked around them. The landscape was a disjointed nightmare of chitinous rot and bone-like vegetation growing into a thick forest north, mountain south.

“Vergil, where are we?”

“Not that far from the cave. Wait for me here, I’ll do reconnaissance.”

Vergil took flight without a word more, circling above them. Nero restrained a new flow of anger. His teeth itched with the urge to bite Vergil deep, to remind him that it wasn’t his place to snub Nero.

“It’ll fade,” Dante said suddenly.

Nero met his uncle’s gaze. Dante looked uncharacteristically serious.

“What will fade?”

“Your mark. Claiming bites have to be renewed, or they fade with time. Vergil gave me one once, didn’t ever bite again, and it went away.”

Nero’s hand flew to his neck. The idea of Vergil’s mark fading ignited wrathful frustration in his guts, but – it was for the best, was it?

“Why did he bite you only once?”

“Dunno. Who knows, maybe he’s secretly a kind older brother and since I can’t get the hang of those things, he didn’t want to rub it in? I mean, I don’t care about social demon niceties, but Vergil’s got a heart of gold under those chitinous ribs. Stole it from another demon.”

Nero elbowed him, though not that hard.

“Your jokes suck when your heart’s not in it.”

“Ouch, tough crowd.”

Nero snorted. Silence fell, a few seconds too long.

“I’m sorry,” Nero said finally.

Dante raised an eyebrow.

“What for?”

“Biting him. I, huh – I saw you… you two, before you flew away.”

For once, Nero saw his uncle visibly taken aback.

“Oh. Well, didn’t think we had an audience.”

Nero shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. I’m just – I didn’t want to get in between… you two, it was just – instinct. But I didn’t –”

It was mostly a lie, and Dante probably knew it. Part of Nero had wanted what they had, part of Nero had wanted to establish his claim on them.

But there was truth in his apology, too. The twins had fought for so long, Nero didn’t want to be the reason for another spat.

“It’s okay, Nero,” Dante said reassuringly. “Demon instincts are a bitch to deal with.”

Nero looked up at the dim skies, where Vergil was circling among noxious-dark clouds.

“You and him,” he started before stopping.

Why was he even breaching the topic? Even thinking about it was dangerous, an ambiguity – yet Nero wanted to know. He hated feeling stupid, left out, _this doesn’t concern you, Nero_.

“Yeah?” Dante asked carefully.

“What are you? The two of you. I mean, more than brothers.”

Dante grimaced, rubbing as his neck.

“I’m not sure I can answer that.”

He caught Nero’s glare and raised a pacifying hand.

“Wrong phrasing. I’m not sure I know _how_ to answer that.”

“How can you not know?”

Dante shrugged.

“We’ve never talked about it. We just went from fighting all the time to fighting and fucking. He doesn’t look like he cares, so I guess it’s just a demon thing for him.”

Okay, so Dante was blind. Or was Nero projecting?

“And what is it for you?”

“Pardon?”

“You said it was a demon thing for him. You didn’t say what it was for you.”

Suddenly, Dante looked uncomfortable.

“It’s – you’re asking hard questions, you know that?” He smiled with crafted levity. “And I’m just coming back to humanity, too!”

“Yeah, I’m tough. So?”

“What is it to you?”

“You’re my family.”

Dante winced.

“Not sure that you want to talk about your family having sex with each other, Nero.”

“I’m sure I want to know _why_ they’re doing it at least. Vergil accused you of ‘playing human.’”

“That – oh, he’s coming back. Mind continuing this later?”

Dante smirked at his outraged glare, raising his hand in mock apology. Vergil landed in front of them, impossibly graceful in spite of his size.

“I saw the van. I’m bringing us as close as possible. Regarding your plans, Nero, I can create a portal, but we’ll need a place close to the human world and I require a full day of rest.”

Despite his frustration, Nero couldn’t help a smile of relief. They were really coming home. He was getting both of the twins back. It was the best configuration possible.

He just needed to hold on to his humanity until then, to be careful that the twins did too.

That, maybe, was the hardest part.


	4. Chapter 4

Traveling with the twins was a pain.

First, they slowed everything down, forcing Nico to stop the car whenever they needed to slake their thirst for wanton destruction. Demon troops were decimated, beasts felled, one or two fortresses destroyed in the name of “well, it’s a demon noble, they might be plotting something sinister or hiding precious artifacts.”

Second, they aggravated his driver. Nico had welcomed Vergil with a “So _here_ ’s the arm-tearing wonder!” and only Nero’s efforts had convinced her to tone down the hostility toward his father. It really felt… good? that someone was so vindictive for Nero’s sake, but it didn’t help with their current situation. Vergil’s reaction was ostensible indifference, which didn’t help, either.

Third, their mere proximity was rubbing Nero the wrong way. Nero’s demonic instincts no longer considered the twins to be a serious threat : Dante was a familiar presence, strong and protective, and Vergil had accepted his claim. Even so, they were very powerful beings that were _not_ happy to be here and it was wearing on Nero’s nerves.

Admittedly, most of the fault laid with Dante. Vergil mostly lurked in the background, silent and focused on reading some of the demonology books that Nero had brought for the trip. It was pretty surreal to see an almost bestial demon twice a human’s size chilling and studying in the van, but he was polite and kept to himself.

Dante, though, was pathologically unable to let his brother brood in peace. It went from teasing remarks and nudge to subtly taking up too much space near Vergil – spreading his wings, sitting with his legs splayed and his elbows hooked over the top of the sofa, generally asserting his dominance in a way so blatant that even _Nero_ was itching to put him back to his place.

Vergil was resisting provocation. That was how Nero (and Dante) knew that something was wrong. His annoyance was obvious: maybe his face was monstrous, but the small twitches of his tail and wings were more than telling, and he was pretty good at aggressively ignoring someone. Probably a big brother thing.

Yet for all Dante’s pestering, Vergil never once took the bait. Even when they got out of the van to decimate demons, he kept his distance so that they wouldn’t end up trading blows by more-or-less accident. Dante was aggressively amused-and-carefree about it; Nero had seen the irritated shake of his wings, the way his clawed hands closed and opened as if tempted to slash at something. Though Dante had agreed that it was better if he kept as human a shape as possible, he was undergoing more and more accidental Triggers in combat. They’d been traveling for five days now, and Nero expected him to attack Vergil before the seventh if they didn’t find an exit by then. Maybe it would be fine, though. Maybe it would fix whatever was wrong with Vergil.

And finally… There was the matter of Nero himself.

He worked hard at forgetting his instincts, at focusing on the twin’s stability and Nico’s temper and getting closer to their goal. He tried his utmost to focus on duty and morals.

But he wanted…

Part of him, the foolish part, the bad part, wanted Vergil to stop focusing on his book and on not reacting to Dante. His nerves echoed with the ghost sensation of Vergil’s hands on his throat, on his face and shoulders, slow with desire that hadn’t bothered to hide itself. Something in him kept dragging him back to the memory of Vergil’s gaze and Vergil’s attention and Vergil biting him, accepting his claim, _Vergil_ –

It wasn’t only his instincts speaking. That was maybe the worst of it. There were _feelings_ in it, too. Feelings were not demonic. Feelings were far, far more dangerous than instincts.

And there was Dante.

Dante with his naked, unmarked throat. Dante who was carefree and untouchable because he wanted to protect Nero from the both of them. _All the while, Nero was running after you and you were keeping him at arm’s length to ‘protect him’ from what he wanted_.

Dante hadn’t even denied it.

Even fighting wasn’t enough to take Nero’s mind off of it. He knew what he could have, what a few words could give him, and –

Fuck feelings, fuck sex drives, and fuck _everything_. Nero tried hard to stay composed, because _someone_ had to be decent in this van, but he could feel self-control getting harder and harder every day.

If the twins didn’t explode first, maybe it would be him.

***

In the end, it was Vergil.

They were clearing the way for the van, mowing down a forest of weird demon trees that attacked everything that moved, when Dante started to steal Vergil’s kills. Vergil simply switched to other, further targets at first, but Dante was nothing if not an obstinate asshole. Nero’s attention had switched back to the van when he heard an enraged growl, felt a flare of demonic energy, and saw his father pouncing on Dante.

His first reflex was to blur forward, but Nico’s urgent “hey!” called him back.

“Dante and Vergil are fighting!” He tried to explain.

“Let them!” She shouted back. “I’m keeping an eye on them, just focus on this baby’s safety!”

She was right, as frustrating as it was. Nero gritted his teeth, clenched his fists.

He just had to crush the rabble faster, then, and there was only one way to do that.

He Triggered.

Unleashing his frustration on the demons was almost therapeutic. Nero moved so fast and savagely he retained almost no memory of it, crushing enemies with an ease that was as natural as breathing; afterward he’d remember mostly the joy of it, the satisfaction of taking his frustration out on something so easy to destroy. It felt so good he went slightly overboard, tearing a few demon trees off before Nico called him back.

He joined her, drunk with relief. She glanced at him.

“Switch back to human.”

Nero obeyed.

“Look at that.”

She pointed him toward something. He followed her gaze and his mind stopped, just for a second.

Dante and Vergil were still fighting, but there was – it was – it was sex, too, fucking so rough it’d have downright wounded or killed a human being. Dante had Triggered back to his truer form and he was bent over Vergil, pushing his thighs wide open, folding him almost in two with the strength of his thrusts while his brother clawed at his face and throat with furious snarls. Each time Dante drove the deepest into him, grinding hard and fast before he tore back, Vergil’s growls hitched, his body arching in wrathful pleasure.

It could have been rape. Nero didn’t even know why he was so sure it wasn’t. Dante’s blood was splattering over Vergil’s face and Dante bent down to lick it, earning a bite for his trouble, and then he went for a bloody kiss that was more of a shock of sharp fangs and the slithery tangle of their long, thorny tongues.

Nero couldn’t stop looking at them. Lust was an iron grip on his throat, a white-hot weight in his guts. He couldn’t move. If he did, he would lose himself.

“So fucking hot,” Nico whispered roughly.

Nero managed to tear his gaze away from the twins to look at her. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes glistening, arousal obvious in her face and her stance. Though the drape of her arm out of the driver side window was casual, the grip she had on her cigarette was far too tight.

Nero couldn’t even find it in him to remind her that she was talking about his family. He looked back to the twins, to the violence they were quenching in each other. Vergil was _chewing_ on Dante’s throat and the latter was howling in delight, pushing inside him in shorter, sharper thrusts that sent shivers racking down Vergil’s body. Did they know they had an audience? They had to know. They just didn’t care.

Nero imagined himself between them, taking and being taken, biting and clawing and tasting blood all the same. His whole body was trembling with need, with the dizzying knowledge of what he could have if he only reached out –

But he _couldn’t_ have it. He could do nothing but watch.

How long the twins spent embraced, delighting in each other’s avidity and violence, Nero didn’t know. Positions and power dynamics switched from one occasion to the next, Vergil straddling Dante’s hips to fuck himself onto him, keeping him pinned with hands and wings and tail; Dante Triggering down as Vergil pinned him to the ground, crying out with sheer delight as Vergil opened him too wide; ruthless embraces, rutting against each other, tearing at each other, sharing kisses and bites as if both were equally dizzying.

Nero was so hard he hurt. He needed release like he needed to breathe, but he had no outlet for it.

“Get in the van.”

He looked at Nico. Her sharp gaze held his.

“I know,” she said simply. “Get in the van and get yerself off, I’ll keep ‘em out ‘til ye’re finished.”

Nero flushed, held back by one last shred of modesty.

“I can’t –”

Humans couldn’t growl, but Nico made a pretty good attempt at it.

“Don’t ya even _start_ , Nero! We’re bros and I can survive knowing ya got a dick. I won’t look. Ya got five seconds or I’m driving away because _I_ got needs, too.”

Clinging to Nico’s voice, her presence, her _humanity_ , Nero forced himself to climb up into the van. She tossed him a Sweet Surrender as soon as he closed the door; he didn’t even have the brain cells for a snarky comeback.

Not tearing his belt or his zip off as he fumbled to get rid of his pants was a challenge. He grabbed his erection as soon as he could, hand too rough through the fabric of his boxers, and oh _oh_ fuck –

He’d come. He’d come simply by grabbing his dick. Great. And yet, his body didn’t want to stop, on the contrary: it was screaming for him to continue the party, because apparently it hadn’t heard about post-coital glow. Nico was panting loudly nearby, unashamed.

Nero didn’t try for finesse. He knew he didn’t need it, had to make due with only the fake affection of his own hands when what he truly needed was strength and power, an offered throat, someone else’s tenderness. So he went straight for a harshness that edged on pain, grabbing himself and rubbing with palms and fingers that kept switching to the roughness of his devil form and _God_ , he’d needed that, the pain, the violence that he should have been releasing with –

Images keep flashing in front of his eyes, fantasies of the twins around him, of Vergil’s inhuman tongue wrapped around his cock and Dante’s hands caressing down his flank, and what they’d feel like in him, around him, whatever shape and whatever the power dynamic as long as they were there and wanted him –

How many times Nero came before his lust abated, he had no idea. Rather than satisfied, he just felt exhausted and frustratingly empty – this had not been what he’d wanted, barely more than a stopgap, and he knew it.

Still, he was in control once more. Nico seemed to have reached her limit as well, if the silence was anything to go by. Nero tried his voice and found it after one try.

“Nico?”

“Yup, that’s my name. Go take a shower, ya big lug, there are two hitchhikers waitin’ for ya to be decent before they enter the van.”

Nero groaned.

“This van needs to be ventilated.”

“They were comfortable fucking where we could see, they’ll survive our smell.”

He still opened the window before he took a quick shower. Nico followed suit, almost vexing in her relaxed cheerfulness, before they opened the door to the twins.

Both had gone back to their lower Trigger shape. Their wings were lowered, relaxed. Nero turned away to sit in the passenger seat before he could see their reaction to the smell.

“Where to?” Nico asked cheerfully.

“Well, we finished gardening while we were waiting, so through the woods,” Dante answered cheerfully.

Nero told himself not to look toward the twins. Thankfully, embarrassment helped abate any curiosity.

He couldn’t keep ignoring them when they stopped for dinner, though. Vergil always refused to eat – he said he fed on other demons when he needed to. Dante, though, still enjoyed human food, and he chose to express this appetite by setting the table whenever the clock on the wall optimistically affirmed it was seven p.m.

“Hey, cook! What’s on the menu?” Dante asked Nico, master of the DMC mobile unit.

“W-whatever you grab first from the freezer!” She exclaimed cheerfully.

She’d almost gotten over her starstruck stutter where Dante was concerned.

“Fine with me,” Dante answered happily. “Wait, what? You’ve got _vegetables_ in that freezer?”

“Oh-oh, yeah, Nero goes on ‘must eat healthy, graah carbs’ binges from t-time to time.”

Nero grumbled his disapproval but didn’t start what he knew would be a losing battle. Nico couldn’t spell “vitamins,” Dante was a half-demon with a disproportionate love for junk food and Vergil ate people. He was the only one with some common nutritional sense here, and besides, he didn’t feel like fighting.

Soon, it wouldn’t matter. They’d be back in the human world and the twins would probably stay together, fucking and having a relationship that they wouldn’t name even though they grew jealous every time Nero even _touched_ one of them. Nero would go back to Kyrie and try to forget any of the bad parts of himself, and Dante would probably be glad to get back to their previous distance.

Nero pressed his hands hard against his eyes, trying to keep any prickling at bay. He felt miserable, but he would survive. He’d gotten over being stabbed almost to death, seeing Credo die in front of his eyes and getting his arm torn off. He would get over whatever was happening to his body and heart.

Nico poked him sharply on the shoulder. He almost decked her on instinct.

“Woah, woah! The burritos are warm, devil boy, so stop staring holes in my windshield and come to the table.”

“’m not hungry,” Nero grumbled.

This was childish and he knew it. Nico threw him an unimpressed glare and fetched the plate, setting it on his lap.

“You’re doing the dishes.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

She patted his shoulder as she went.

Sometimes, he really appreciated how lucky he was to have met her.

Thankfully, Dante knew how to be chatty when he had to, so dinner wasn’t a silent affair. Nero let the noise drift past his ears as he picked at his dinner, too lost in the turmoil of his own thoughts to really taste it. It was hardly what he would call peaceful, but at the very least the van’s other occupants gave him the illusion of space. 

When Nero got up to do the dishes, he made the mistake of looking toward the table.

Vergil was reading next to Dante. Dante was sitting splayed out as usual, and one of his thighs was pressed against Vergil’s. It was obvious they'd reconciled.

Well, it was good for them, wasn’t it? Nero took Nico and Dante’s empty plates and cleaned up the rest of the table with a kind of single-minded intent, resisting the urge to slam any of the dishware down on the counter. In the end, it was none of his business.

It was just. Fine.

Vergil joined Nero mid-dishwashing. Even in half-human form, he was far too tall and powerful for Nero’s instincts to be entirely at ease with his closeness – not when he was already feeling pissed off and stressed. In these moments, he remembered all too well the last time someone had gotten _that_ close without him being ready to fight back.

“You mind stepping back?” He snapped.

Okay, that was unfair. Vergil had no reason to know his personal hang-up. Nero wasn't even that resentful about his arm, now. Survival was survival, and Vergil had been dying at the time. Nero still felt furious whenever he thought about lying powerless in a pool of his own blood, but between dying and tearing a stranger's arm off, he was not sure what he'd have chosen in Vergil’s place.

Vergil stepped back.

"I was going to help you dry the dishes."

Oh. Fuck. Nero felt guilty, now.

"Huh. Okay. Well, there’s the towel here.”

“Thank you,” his father, a giant clad in inhuman beauty and blue-burning fire, said politely.

This was one of the most surreal experiences of his life. Nero cut himself twice and almost broke a plate, and then he tried to wash his hand with dish soap when he finished.

Vergil didn’t say anything. He just helped quietly and efficiently, and then he stepped back. Nero refrained the impulse to Trigger to gain a few centimeters on him.

“Err… Thank you,” he said awkwardly.

“You’re welcome.”

Vergil was still bearing Nero’s mark. He wanted to touch it, to see if the scars could still be felt over the skin. Instead, he reflexively touched his own neck, where Vergil had wanted him enough to claim him.

When he looked at Vergil again, his father’s pupils had dilated to dark circles, eating through the fire-blue of the irises.

Something stopped in Nero’s chest. Vergil bowed his head.

“Good night, Nero.”

Fuck _everything._

***

On the fifth day of traveling with the twins, Nero got eaten.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t that bad: mostly. Part of the pass they were crossing through turned out to be some sleeping giant intent on destroying everything that rolled or walked on her, and _then_ that giant turned out to have many unexpected mouths as one opened just under the van. Nero punched it out of the way, found himself between rotten diamonds jaw, and just had the time for one last swear before jagged rock teeth closed on him. He Triggered, using his wings to slow down his fall, and stabbed the inside of the beast’s throat with Red Queen to get a temporary platform. Should he stay here or let himself fall? It might be the most efficient way to hit some vital organs, rather than to try to pummel the thing’s rocky hide.

“There are nicer ways to get a guy inside you,” he informed the giant organism that pulsed and reeked around him.

It seemed unswayed by this argument, so Nero jumped down. There were many holes down the throat, some probably leading to more mouths while others vomited floating rock-monsters that were pretty useful to slow a guy’s fall.

Nero was a few dozen meters down when a horrible groan made everything shake. He stabbed the wall with Red Queen to stabilize himself – a good idea since it started all over again, more violently. Big rock chunks fell from above, looking suspiciously like the teeth of the giant. Nero squinted upwards. The twins?

As if on cue, two fires of ice-blue and lava-red flew down past Nero – down, down until a cacophony of screeches, squelches and detonations made Nero’s ears ring. A foul odor erupted in the trembling air, the walls shaking violently, swarms of small demons drawing panicked patterns all around the young hybrid. He tried to look down and saw nothing but darkness – then Dante and Vergil flying upward, twin explosions of power aimed straight at him.

A cry tore itself from Nero’s throat, nothing human, but he instinctively recognized the meaning: some animal equivalent of “oh shit.” The twins growled back in unison – a deep, inhuman sound that ran across multiple harmonics. He barely had time to brace for impact before two sets of hands grabbed him and dragged him up, faster than a plane.

Nero didn’t even try for words; he let the demon in him talk, shrill chirps that got him two brief glances. That was all the attention they gave him, though, as they flew up through the partially destroyed barrier of the giantess’ fangs, the twins’ power evaporating the rock on mere contact.

The dim Underworld sky was almost beautiful compared to the rotting darkness of the monster’s throat. Nero even had a few extra seconds to appreciate it when the twins threw him on the uneven ground, utterly silent.

He rose just as Vergil blurred to his side and grabbed his hair. Nero’s first reflex was to try to stop him, but sudden realization froze him for a second.

Vergil was about to –

Sharp fangs sank again into his flesh, pinpricks of electric ecstasy, and Nero cried out. He clawed at Vergil reflexively, the heady smell of blood making his mouth water, but he didn’t try to push him away; he _couldn’t_ try to push him away, nerves humming with the delight of being _claimed_ , wanted, of the strength and the power and the awareness that this demon and this man cared for _him_. He tried not to make any noises of pleasure, but he couldn’t stop himself from panting, short bursts of air dragging through the tightness of his throat.

There was a growl, and Nero opened his eyes with some effort. Dante was looming over them, wings twitching, hands clenched into fists. Vergil turned toward him, moving far too fast for a human, and snarled.

Dante snarled back.

Nero tried to scramble after the fragment of his humanity. This was _not_ the time for whatever kind of fight the twins had in mind. For now, they weren’t even looking at him, gazes locked with each other in some kind of silent discussion. What the _fuck_ had set this off?

“Dante! Vergil!”

They looked at him, two predators sizing him up. Nero felt a spike of fear and growled low, instinctive aggressiveness pushing back against human reason. Human reason couldn’t defend him against powerlessness. Violence –

Dante knelt, folding his wing, reducing his bulk. Nero’s fearful rage receded, pacified by this effort at soothing him. He could still feel their power, the thickness of the tension between them, but this demon was trying to placate him, to show respect. (This demon was _Dante_. He had to remember. He had to –)

Dante leaned toward him – quickly, at first, and Nero hissed, but Vergil touched his brother’s nape with long, careful fingers and Dante slowed.

He was going to bite Nero. The realization was a burst of delight in Nero’s chest, making him dizzy with anticipation. He wanted it, to be marked, claimed as kin, having _Dante_ be the one to establish their bond, and Vergil was accepting it, was guiding it. His hand on Dante’s nape was holding him firmly, claws dug deep into leather-like skin. His gaze was scouring Nero’s face, careful.

Nero couldn’t think. He couldn’t resist. He tilted his head to the side, offering easier access to Dante, and his uncle made a soft sound that almost sounded painful – maybe it was, maybe Vergil was pulling on his nape to force him to stay careful because the Gods knew how much Dante sucked at _slow and steady_.

A long, hot tongue caressed his bared throat, sliding across the line of his artery to the ridge of his clavicle. Nero shivered and whined with outrage, indignant at the anticipation, and grabbed Dante’s jaw ridge with both human hands to pull him closer.

Dante reacted lightning-quick, biting down instantly. Familiar pleasure struck down Nero’s limbs, scattering his thought in a mix of pure, shivering joy and terror because it was too hard, too deep – and then he smelt Vergil’s blood, heard Vergil’s groan of pain, and Dante stopped before he tore off part of Nero’s throat, fangs drawing lines of fire as he pulled away.

Panting, mindless with pleasure, pain and fear, Nero saw his uncle straighten and Vergil’s hand fall mangled to the floor, blue-tinged ichor mixed with red, humanish blood on Dante’s face and torso.

Dante’s eyes fell on him, shards of lava-red, and widened. His form shimmered and reshaped itself, shrinking down past his Trigger form to almost purely human – teeth still sharp, eyes still tinged with red, skin interspersed with patterns of fire. He looked… different, even without the demon traits. Younger. He tore off part of his shirt and pressed it against Nero’s torn throat, voice frantic with worry.

“Nero! Damn it, are you okay? I’m sorry, I – fuck. We’re going to get you some meat so you can recover, okay? Can you speak to me?”

“I’m okay,” Nero replied sluggishly. “Didn’t hurt that much.”

Something thick and liquid was obstructing his airways – blood, coughed out in coppery drops – but his wound was closing already. He could feel, through the pain, the grounding echoes of Dante’s claiming bite.

He looked at Vergil. His father was still in full demon shape, silently observing the both of them. His arm from the wrist up was a bloody, jagged stump and _that_ was an unpleasant memory, enough to call back all of Nero’s humanity.

Vergil had jammed his hand between Dante’s jaw to try to stop him from biting off part of Nero’s neck. Dante had ripped it off after he’d torn himself from the bite. Cold dread tightened Nero’s throat, far more bitter than the blood.

“Vergil! Your arm, fuck, are you alright?”

Vergil shrugged.

“Yamato wasn’t damaged and the flesh will heal. Did the mark take?”

“Vergil!” Dante snapped.

“Yeah, it took.”

This close, Nero couldn’t miss the way Dante’s pupils blew out at the idea. Guilt chased arousal, though, the devil hunter pursing his lips and shaking his head.

“I almost killed you.”

Nero shook his head, scowling in discomfort. He wasn’t used to seeing Dante act serious, much less to hear that level of remorse in his voice, and his uncle had done nothing to deserve the self-flagellation.

“I can live through a torn throat. I wanted it and Vergil was keeping you in check.”

“You could have inflicted worse and you didn’t. I did think you’d manage to keep it somewhat in control if it was Nero,” Vergil said.

His arm wasn’t bleeding anymore, skin trying to close around the jagged edges of his wound. He didn’t sound hurt or bothered, more like he was stating a fact of life. Dante threw him an incredulous glare.

“What the hell?”

“You don’t want to hurt him, Dante. You barely control your demonic instincts when you indulge in them, but you’ve got strong protective urges toward the boy.”

“I lacerated part of his throat and I bit off your arm!”

Vergil shrugged.

“You managed to mark him and you only bit off my arm after you’d finished biting Nero. Your reaction was normal for a demon facing interference in a moment of power exchange. I would have been surprised if you hadn’t snapped it off.”

Dante growled, eyes shining redder and brighter. Nero grabbed his shoulder.

“You stop fighting _now_.”

He hadn’t even growled. He was just tired, weirdly hungry, and arousal clung undesired through the stress and the pain – _fueled_ by the pain, actually, and by the smell of the twins’ blood nearby. He wanted to coax Vergil into coming close and biting him again and feeding him (meat) to help regeneration. He wanted to taste Dante’s blood and to feel more of his hands on him.

He also, mostly, wanted for the twins to stop fighting and for Vergil to stop being weird and cryptic and mutilated.

Miraculously, the twins looked at him instead of fighting again. Nero tried to negotiate his way through the chemical cocktail that was currently saturating his brain.

“Vergil, how can we get your arm to grow back quicker?” He asked.

“Blood.”

“I can give some,” Dante said sharply.

“Nero needs it more than I do.”

“Oh, stop playing brooding hero and get in here,” Dante snapped, tearing the bandages around his wrists.

“ _I_ didn’t lose an arm,” Nero approved.

Vergil didn’t outright scowl, thanks to a fully demonic face, but he was definitively offended. Dante smirked at him.

“I thought _I_ was the irrational one.”

“The idea of being indebted to you is a painful one,” Vergil grumbled.

“Vergil, you sacrificed your arm to protect my nephew from myself.”

“It’ll grow back.”

“Just like my blood. C’mon, food. You’ll get me a pizza when we get back home. Can’t you get back to human shape? It’s kinda freaky to offer my blood to a full demon when I’m full human.”

Vergil’s tail twitched. He didn’t change his expression but shimmered down to a simple Trigger form. He looked more expressive in that shape – almost sulky.

“Can’t get more human? _I_ could,” Dante teased him.

“How wonderful for you, Dante.”

“C’mon, try it.”

“Do you want me to drink your blood or not?”

Nero bit back a pang of jealousy at the idea of Vergil being fed by Dante’s blood, because demon instincts were apparently dumbasses. Vergil bent over to Dante’s wrist and bit sharply, tearing the flesh enough that he could drink in between regenerations. Dante hissed sharply, then forced himself to relax and patted his brother’s hair with a smile.

“So? Is it good?”

Vergil didn’t grace him with more answers than a slight deepening of his frown. Dante chuckled and absentmindedly petted his face, the naked lines of his throat. It was beautiful, the easy tenderness of it, the fondness of his touch – and then Vergil unconsciously moved his head up, encouraging the caress, inviting a bite or a scratch...

Nero swallowed, hit by a new wave of arousal.

“Why did you bite me?”

Dante stopped touching Vergil, attention snapping back to him.

“Why?...”

“Yeah. I mean, I got swallowed and then you two rushed in, killed it and you almost – you outright claim – claimed me.”

Nero felt the blush burst from his cheekbone to his neck. Fair skin _sucked_.

“Huh,” Dante said, looking incredibly uncomfortable. “We saw you get, well, _eaten_ , and we both reacted more or less on instinct.”

Vergil didn’t offer an answer of his own, apparently focused on Dante’s arm. His tongue was penetrating the wounds and licking flesh in a way that Nero was, huh... better off not looking at.

“Explain those instincts,” Nero demanded.

Maybe the twins were alright with solving everything through silence, time, fighting and fucking, but Nero needed _words_ , damn it. Dante grimaced and looked at Vergil.

“Well, huh. Protective instincts? I think Vergil already made it clear what he thought of you, and it’s – natural to rekindle a claiming bite after a scare.”

Vergil’s tail twitched and his grip on Dante’s arm tightened.

“Ouch! What’s your problem? Don’t like the word ‘scare’? Well, _I’_ m the one having the difficult conversation, here!”

“You could just say ‘when the bond was under threat,’ Vergil corrected.

His lips were stained with red. He licked them. Nero felt something clench in his chest. Dante stared at his brother’s mouth. He reached out, one thumb pressing between the fullness of his lips.

Vergil nibbled at him. Nero couldn’t breathe. He’d wanted to ask more questions, but he had forgotten them.

Vergil released Dante’s thumb, letting his fingers trail down his chin, his throat. He tilted his head slightly; an invitation.

Dante stared, mouth ajar. His teeth had grown longer, sharper, but instead of moving towards his brother he swallowed and tore his gaze away, returning his attention to Nero.

“… Anyway. I was saying… Instincts. Did you have more questions?”

Vergil looked unsurprised, indifferent, yet Nero could smell his agitation from miles away. The tip of his tail twitched as he carefully unhanded Dante and rose, wings flapping once before he folded them and stepped back.

Dante didn’t seem to notice at all, his attention solely focused on Nero, like he hadn’t just snubbed Vergil’s very intimate offer. Nero felt almost – no, completely angry. Weren’t they twins? How the fuck could Dante fail to understand his own brother? Or did he not care?

Vergil met Nero’s eyes and averted his gaze with an annoyed scowl. Nero clicked his tongue; the sound caught Dante’s attention, the older hunter looking back at his brother with raised eyebrows. Vergil, however, remained stoic as always. _Fuck it_ , Nero thought. If Dante was that dumb and Vergil that reluctant to express his feelings, then Nero would take on the mantle of “talking about touchy subjects in this damn family.”

“Hey, Dante. Why did you claim _me_?”

The question called Dante’s attention back to Nero. The half-demon winced, rubbing his shoulder.

“Well… Vergil explained the meaning of a bite, didn’t he? Protection and, you know, that kind of thing. I won’t – I’m not asking for anything, okay? I know you’ve got a life, a girlfriend. It’s just… demon stuff. Don’t think too much about it. It’s going to fade and it’s going to be fine.”

Avoidant fucker. Nero struggled with the urge to shout at him and demand honesty. He had a blunter weapon to wield for now.

“And why didn’t you claim _Vergil_?”

Dante startled. Vergil blinked, surprised into stillness.

“What?”

“You’re fucking each other, so why didn’t you bite him?”

“Nero,” Vergil cut in sharply.

So Nero was getting close. Dante rubbed his throat, clearly ill at ease.

“What is it to you?”

Oh, _fuck him_. What was with the twins and honesty? No wonder they fought so much and found it so much easier to act on instinct. At least it gave them a pretext to reach out and take what they wanted.

“What is it to me? You’re my _family_ and you’re screwing each other! And, and –”

 _And I want to be part of what you are, and I can’t ask for it because (I think you’ll say no) it’s wrong (please give me_ any reason _to give in)_.

“And fuck you, aren’t you supposed to be the one that gave in to his demonic instincts? Can’t you realize how hurtful –” Nero started, wildly gesturing toward Vergil.

Vergil blurred forward to muffle him with one massive palm. Nero slipped free easily – he knew all too well how awkward it could be to move one-handed at first.

“Don’t,” Vergil snarled. “This is none of your business.”

“So what, you plan on never talking about it?”

Vergil tried to stare him down. “ _Nero_.”

“No. We are talking. Problems are things you _solve_.”

“Okay, so what am I missing here?” Dante asked pleasantly.

He was good at appearing relaxed, but his shoulders were tense and his fists white-knuckled.

“Nothing you can’t live without, Dante.”

“Seriously? You’re gonna try to big brother-ize me? A bit too late for that, Vergil.”

Nero could feel the mounting tension in the air, the way his own fighting instincts were rearing for a new duel. _Fuck it_. He just wanted to shout and punch them until the problem was solved, but the slightest hint of violence would make everything explode and nothing would get resolved, as usual. That was how the twins forgot their issues. It was easier to hurt from being mauled by your brother, more satisfying, perhaps more pleasing.

Devils may be able to cry, but it didn’t mean they wanted to.

Nero forced himself to calm down. Usually, he was happy to rush in and punch, but this required something else.

His instincts knew just what the _something else_ was, though.

Nero forced himself to relax, keeping his arm-wings carefully folded, and very carefully touched Vergil’s wounded arm. His father twitched but didn’t really look at him, attention focused on the powerful demon that faced him. A wave of jealous bitterness flooded Nero’s mind, but he’d just meant to signal his presence to Vergil before he did more.

Slowly, he leaned in and nuzzled at his father’s throat, a soft caress of lips and nose. _This_ got him Vergil’s attention. Dante’s, too. Good. No fighting.

“You told me it was a good thing to take what I wanted.”

It was wrong. Morals had to come into play, too. They should have, at least. But this was need - bone-deep, soul-deep, deeper than human attraction and harsher than demonic lust – an urge that only found its peace when the twins touched him.

“I did,” Vergil answered, uncertain.

He knew a trap when he saw one. No matter. Nero would take what he wanted, now.

“Can I bite you?”

Nero told himself he wasn’t terrified of rejection. Vergil’s answer came an eternity too late.

“Yes.”

Doing it when he had been lost to his instincts was worlds different than doing it while he was riding them, still perfectly aware of the weight of his actions. Nero’s heart was pounding ridiculously as he softly pulled on Vergil’s wounded arm – aware of the vulnerability he was reminding Vergil of, and of what it probably reminded Dante of – to make him bend.

Vergil’s skin tasted like salt under his tongue, deceptively human through the devil’s mask. It was rough, thick, leather-like, and yet Nero’s tongue could still trace the ridge of _his_ bite mark.

He nibbled softly at first, just to enjoy the sensation. Vergil didn’t move, didn’t jerk away. He was giving him this – the remainder of this claim. _Kin_ , _mine, mine.._.

Dante should have been the first to claim him.

Sucked to be Dante.

Nero bit just a bit deeper, a bit sharper. Vergil’s breath trembled. It felt even better, biting him, now that Nero could take his time to enjoy it, to let him feel it too.

Gods, he wanted to touch Vergil, he _needed_ to touch him, to kiss him softly. He wanted to hear his voice, lost in pleasure, and taste his mouth, and smell the scent of his arousal, to feel the whole of him, demon or man, however Vergil wanted it –

Dante growled low, closer than Nero remembered. A careful hand was ruffling Nero’s hair, drawing lines of trembling pleasure down his spine, tracing again and again the shapes of his claiming bites.

“What are you _doing_?”

“Ask Nero.” Vergil’s calm, composed voice hitched whenever Nero’s tongue pressed a bit harder on his marks.

“Nero!”

Nero reluctantly pulled away from his father’s throat.

“Claiming bite.”

Dante grabbed him by the shoulder. Nero only barely refrained from punching him.

“ _Stop it_.”

“Why?”

“Because!”

Dante gestured in frustration, angry, trapped. Nero wasn’t so kind as to let him go, though. He simply looked at his uncle, waiting for more.

“Nero, this – you _know_ what claiming means. You understand. You’re, I mean – you have a girlfriend.”

“We’re non-exclusive.”

 _This_ was hard to say, because it carried an implied meaning that Nero had avoided until now. Vergil hummed with interest, his hand sliding to Nero’s throat. Electricity sizzled down Nero’s spine, sparks of frustrated desire.

“You see, Dante? It’s fine.”

“It’s not!” Dante’s voice was almost a growl. Angry, and perhaps afraid. “Vergil, you’re his father –”

“And you my brother. Stop the farce, Dante. _You_ ’ve taken what you wanted and you don’t want Nero to do the same because you want him ‘more human,’ ‘more normal,’ as if being normal had ever attracted _you_. You’ve heard it was happiness for mortals and you’ve chosen it for him.”

“You can’t –”

“Stop talking about me as if I’m not here,” Nero cut in. “Vergil’s right. I can’t – I won’t force you, Dante. But...”

 _I want you to touch me, to make me bleed in the right way, I want to kiss you and to feel your hands on me and to see what face you make when you come_. Easy to think, impossible to voice.

“I want to bite you both,” Nero said instead, because demon instincts were easier. “Also, you should bite Vergil.”

“Nero!” Vergil hissed, his hand clenching on Nero's throat.

 _That_ felt good. Nero shrugged off his grip easily – there _was_ a bit of vengeful satisfaction in seeing Vergil struggle with being one-handed, even though it was harder knowing that Vergil had lost it protecting him – and grinned. Dante looked stunned.

“Why the hell –?”

“I’m going back to Nico’s, join us later.”

“Wha – you little shit! You caused all this trouble and now you're just going to walk away?” Dante realized.

Nero winked at him and fled as quickly as he could.

Behind him, he could feel the rush of Vergil’s presence rushing after him a breath before Dante tackled his brother.


	5. Chapter 5

“So,” Nico said in her most “ _I’m being diplomatic and you’d better know it_ ” tone. “Got somethin’ you wanna say to me?”

“I want to sleep for ten years,” Nero informed her.

The van had been parked only twenty, maybe thirty meters away. He had no doubt she’d seen everything. Now that the chemical package of adrenalin, endorphins and other fun things that had been running in his veins had evaporated, only exhaustion and whatthefuckdidIjustdo remained.

“An’ about the, huh, family bondin’ you just did over there?”

Nero rubbed his face. He just wanted to sleep. Maybe get drunk. Not in that specific order. He didn’t want to think about Dante, or Vergil, or the two, or the very real possibility they’d get satisfaction together _which was for the best_ and wouldn’t – fuck.

He wanted them so much.

“Pour me a beer and I’ll consider it.”

Nico must have truly been feeling sorry for him. Not only did she get him his drink, she even added in a bowl of pistachios.

He really didn’t deserve his friends.

***

The twins came in later, interrupting Nico’s dramatic reading from one of her tattoo magazines. There was an awkward silence, then Nico shouted “we’re eating lunch!” and Dante was all-too happy to jump aboard the levity train.

Vergil didn’t join the discussion. He was still in Trigger shape, but his appearance felt somewhat more human – less spikes, smoother skin, round pupils. He seemed less broody, too: he read one of Nico’s engineering manuals while Dante did most of the talking. Nero tried his best to participate, but part of his mind kept going back to his father’s arm, almost fully regrown, and to the obviousness of his bare neck with its lack of a second bite. He’d really thought…

“Earth to Nero, it’s time for dishes!” Nico claimed.

He snorted.

“In your dreams. _I_ did the cooking, you do the dishes.”

“You only put pasta in water and I _just_ did my nails.”

“Are you kidding me – _fine_. You owe me.”

“I’ll help,” Vergil cut in quietly.

“You’ve got only one and a half hands,” Dante pointed out.

Vergil smirked at him.

“I’m skilled with my fingers. Does that mean you volunteer?”

“Nah,” Dante refused cheerfully. “Wouldn’t want to intrude on your one-and-one time!”

Nero scowled at him. Vergil didn’t grace him with an answer and rose.

Nero had fully expected a remark, a whisper – something. Instead, he got quiet help. Vergil was more clumsy than usual, but it was to be expected with only three functional fingers on his right hand.

“I’d thought you’d regenerate faster,” Nero couldn’t help but point out in the end.

“We fought a bit too vigorously after your departure. The body ends up favoring the regeneration most needed for survival. I’ll eat a few de– beasts to recover.”

Nero scowled.

“You’re _always_ fighting.”

“We were born fighting,” Vergil said simply.

Nero glanced at Dante and Nico. The gunsmith was trying very hard not to stammer as she explained a weapon plan to the devil hunter. None of them seemed to pay any attention to Nero or Vergil.

“He didn’t bite you?”

Vergil could have scowled, glared, or said “no thanks to you.” Instead, the smirk that he gave to Nero was worthy of his most “pin them to the wall” moments as V.

“It seems you volunteered to help.”

“ _What_?”

This time, Dante and Nico’s conversation stopped and then started again with that distracted cheerfulness that was characteristic of two people trying very hard to eavesdrop. Vergil fell back into poker face mode.

“What do you _mean_?” Nero whispered-hissed at him.

Vergil looked toward the others.

“What do you say of continuing this conversation later?”

“Asshole,” Nero said without real heat, but he let the matter drop.

It was probably revenge for his little stunt. Still, what did they mean “helping?” He was not going to show Dante how to open and close his jaw.

He dealt with the remaining dishes, mind racing, but neither Dante nor Vergil seemed interested in pursuing the topic of claiming bites any further. Nico started the van up again after that, and the day – what was probably the day, time slipping uneasily under the perpetually dark skies of the Underworld – went on uneventfully: they encountered a few demon troop and one especially cocky flying octopus monster, but overall nothing to write home about. They had dinner. Nico made an obnoxious show of announcing that she was very sleepy and wouldn’t wake up at all should any noise arise during the probably-night.

Then, they went to bed, officially.

Until now, the consensus had been that Nico slept in the driver’s seat, which could be rearranged into a pretty comfy bed, Nero took the sofa, and the twins slept on the guest futon. They were far too big for it, but Vergil could sleep sitting and Dante just sprawled everywhere, so they made do. Arrangements aside, one of them three was always up to keep watch, so they had to stand the proximity for a third of the night only.

This time, Nero was unsurprised when Dante and Vergil joined him on the top of the van, where he was standing on guard.

“See anything?” Dante asked cheerfully.

“Two half-demon hybrids,” Nero answered wryly. “Gotta stay on alert.”

“Sounds dangerous.” Dante nodded gravely.

“Tell me about it.”

“Speaking of danger, you volunteered to help me bite Vergil.”

“That again – what do you _need_? You know how to bite, don’t you?”

“Not when the goal isn’t to hurt.”

Dante’s voice was uncharacteristically serious. He seemed to realize it and grinned.

“Listen, a man who relies on his demon only for fighting ends up with some bad reflexes, okay? The thing is, I _really_ don’t want to tear off Vergil’s throat again, even if he’ll lie through his teeth and ramble on about how it’s ‘just a flesh wound’ or something. I don’t like seeing my brother wheeze as he half-bleeds out because of a love bite, so I’d kinda given up on the whole idea, but seems _someone_ thinks it’s important.”

So that was why Dante had stopped trying to claim Vergil, why he’d only claimed Nero when he’d been half-mad with worry. It made sense. Grim sense, but sense all the same.

“I’ve managed to get back to human form, but I’ll need someone to ground me, and it can’t be Vergil.”

“Why not?”

“Because I feed the demon in him,” Vergil explained calmly. “His instincts’ first reflex always will be to subdue me. We’ve always fought. We’ve always yearned to establish dominance and to neutralize a rival. I almost killed him.”

“I've almost killed _you too_ ,” Dante reminded him in a voice that was too low and too rough.

Vergil shrugged.

“That was Nelo Angelo and then that was Urizen. It was necessary, then.”

Nero wanted to clutch Dante’s shoulder, or at least to find the words that would magically fix the situation. Instead, he just grabbed at a clumsy topic change.

“So you huh – want me to talk you through it?”

“Bingo,” Dante grinned. “Think you can do that?”

“I can. But – it’s going to get better, you know. You’re – you’re together now, aren’t you? You’re not trying to kill each other anymore, so...”

Dante ruffled his hair.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ll deal with it. For now, we need… let’s say we _want_ your help. Guide me. Help me understand what it feels like. Think you can do that?”

Oh fuck. No, he could _not_ do that, and he was still going to because apparently he was the world’s biggest sucker.

“You’ll definitely owe me for this,” he grumbled.

Dante grinned at him and raised his chin.

“Want a bite?”

 _Fuck_. Nero thought belatedly about closing his mouth and shook his head, which was stupid because he currently wanted this more than breathing.

“I, huh, I – okay. So! We’re talking _Vergil_ ’s bite right now. You’re both good?”

They nodded. Nero tried to hide his rising panic.

“First thing first, we’re going to get off this van’s roof, because Nico’s going to gut us if the noise wakes her up.”

They jumped to the floor. Nero’s skin was too tight, his breath too short. He felt like a voyeur when he was only – it was only –

This was far too sexy for his sanity and he was going to die.

“Does Dante have to Trigger for the bite to take?” He asked Vergil.

“Yes. At least the first level of the transformation.”

“Okay. Dante –”

Dante’s shape had already shimmered to his Trigger form. Okay. Good. Fine. Perfect. Now, to pretend that he knew what he was doing.

 _Keep me grounded_. Nero could do that. He touched Dante’s hand, feeling it twitch under his.

“First, you’re going to be soft.”

“Soft?”

“Yeah. Slow. Vergil, you can huh – lie down? Or stay sitting if you prefer, but with your back against the van.”

Vergil wordlessly chose the second option.

“Dante, you need to teach your instincts that this is a matter of softness, so you have to be gentle. You slept with humans, didn’t you? Well, imagine the same level of care. Nuzzle his throat. Kiss the shape of his neck. Lick it, focusing on his reaction. On _him_ , not the hunger or whatever makes you bite.”

It felt like narrating a porno. The worst was that Dante was actually following his instruction, slowly kissing and caressing Vergil’s throat with lips and tongue. Vergil’s eyes had fluttered closed and he was breathing slow, obviously trying to control his reaction. Prideful asshole.

“You can feel his reaction, yeah, Dante? He’s enjoying it. Focus on his breath and his tension. Now, scrape his skin with your teeth, but very softly. You don’t want to bite. You’re just nibbling him. He likes it.”

Dante inhaled sharply, fire lines shimmering through his form. Nero intertwined his fingers with his uncle’s hand. If his presence supposedly soothed him, or made him feel more protective, maybe his proximity would help Dante calm down during the bite – to remember that he wanted to claim, not tear down.

Dante _loved_ his brother, damn it. Why else would he have jumped into Hell? Why else would he grin while they bickered, or relentlessly poke and goad Vergil into a reaction every time his brother ignored him, or just look so downright _happy_ every time they fought or rested together? Loner instincts or not, this wasn’t right.

“You still with me, Dante?”

Dante nodded. Vergil’s gaze briefly met Nero’s. He kept his head tilted, throat fully offered to his brother, and the view was pure temptation. Nero’s teeth almost itched with the urge to pepper his neck with more bites, no matter if those faded, just to reassert their bond and the fact Vergil had let him touch him. This had to be some kind of torture.

“Now, lick his throat,” Nero continued more roughly. “There, good. Kiss it. Smell his skin. You don’t want to hurt him, yeah? You want to – make it good. You want him to feel pleasure from the bite. Keep that in mind. His pleasure. It’s a victory to make him feel good. So, you’re going to bite him now _and you’re going to do it slowly_.”

Stress quickened his words because Dante had bit like a hungry man, too-sharp teeth tearing through flesh, and Vergil was tensing with pain, _fuck_ –

“Dante!” He half-barked half-called.

The hybrid froze, breathing hard around the chunk of flesh he was holding, and then very slowly released Vergil’s neck. He had dug in deep, enough that blood was spraying everywhere. Now, Nero understood the twins’ panic at seeing him wounded by Dante: neck wounds were downright spectacular.

The smell of Vergil’s blood was cloying, suffocating – dizzying. Nero wanted to lick it from Vergil’s neck.

“You alright?” He forced himself to say with human words, in human shape, unmoving.

Dante whined and leaned on Vergil, mouthing at his bloody throat – kissing, tasting, a frantic tenderness born of sheer need. His hand was holding Nero’s so hard it hurt, and the other was clutching Vergil’s hip like a lifeboat.

“F-ine,” Vergil answered.

He tried hard to keep his reactions down, but his voice was breathier, shivering at the edge.

“Good job, Nero. He was softer than – usual.”

 _That_ was softer? It must have been sheer mauling before. Dante kissed the edge of Vergil’s jaw, breathing hard. He had licked stripes of skin naked from the blood on his brother’s throat. Nero’s throat was tight from the thirst to join them.

Vergil looked at him, eyes hazy from lust, and tsk-ed with annoyance. The effect was somewhat spoiled by a silent gasp when Dante’s hand slid down to his sheath. Nero could almost physically _feel_ the rest of his own blood rushing south.

“You’re such a strange boy, Nero. One minute, you’re claiming what you want and the other, you’re denying yourself.”

It was so hot, the way Vergil tried to control his voice while his hips twitched against Dante’s questing fingers, pleasure slowly ruining the annoyance of his tone.

“Take what you want,” Vergil hissed.

For once in his life, Nero obeyed unquestioningly.

***

Someone should have been keeping guard.

Nero couldn’t bring himself to care.

The twins had coaxed him into Triggering and Dante had shown him, with his tongue and fingers, how to slowly open his sheath, to explore the liquid heat that felt hypersensitive and raw against the twins’ touch. The sensation was so new Nero couldn’t help moaning, shivering each time the pressure inside of him mounted to the verge of orgasm. He could feel Dante’s laugh against the most intimate part of himself and though Vergil didn’t chuckle, not out loud at least, Nero could feel his smile against his throat, his arm, the inside of his wrist, nibbling on his fingers.

“D-Dante –”

He didn’t know what he’d wanted to say, forgot how to speak anyway when Vergil slowly scratched his torso with his claws – lines of fire, searing hot in contrast to the pleasure, slowing dragging down his abs in intricate patterns that made Nero’s hips cant and his thighs twitch uselessly on each side of Dante’s head. It felt too good, he was going to _die_ from this and this was worth it, so worth it, pain and pleasure rushing electric through his body. He was vaguely aware of the noise he was making, the tears wetting his eyes, and he couldn’t care because he wanted _more_ –

Ecstasy hit Nero at the top of his high, Dante’s tongue deep and twisting inside him, Vergil’s fingers scratching fire on the inside of his flank. He blacked out for a moment, mind empty and blissful.

He resurfaced to Vergil and Dante kissing, a tangle of inhuman tongues and wet lips. Nero grabbed Dante on instinct and pulled him forward, not a shred of hesitation before he bit down on his uncle’s neck.

 _Mine, too_.

The feeling of power and completion was another high, sending fresh lust pooling down Nero’s guts. Vergil growled and followed, sinking his fang in the other side of Dante’s throat – claiming him in turn. Nero couldn’t bite back a snarl. Vergil growled.

“You either fight _or_ fuck me so pick your battles wisely,” Dante panted.

He sounded serious enough that Nero instinctively recoiled, and then vexedly bit Dante’s shoulder. Vergil was already kissing his brother's throat, licking at the blood here.

Dante didn’t really wrangle them: it was more that he granted them absolute freedom, taking what they gave him and giving more than he should have. They bit his throat and again, kissed his mouth and clawed at his thighs, eager to please, to draw more noise than the other. It was a competition, maybe flirting too; Nero wasn’t sure and didn’t care. Dante was _his_ , their bond complete, resonating in his blood. He was _his_ and his pleasure was pure alcohol in Nero’s veins.

Vergil went down on Dante first, inhuman tongue slithering deep into unsheathed lava-bright flesh. Nero stopped breathing for a second, fascinated by the way Dante’s hips undulated in his brother’s grip, pleased encouragements leaving his lips and trembling in the air as Vergil drove deeper in him. It was so breathtaking, watching them, knowing they were _his_ , basking in the beauty of it, that it took Nero a moment to reach out.

He slid his claws down Dante’s abs, savoring his noises of delighted pain, and reached to his erection. He hadn’t ever touched another man, much less a demon, scaled ridges and lines of light under his fingers suggesting sensitivities far different than what Nero knew, but instinctive empathy and Dante’s half-praise half-orders guided him well enough that he could make him twitch and keen.

He met Vergil’s gaze, reading naked hunger and satisfaction as a perfect echo of his own.

“I’m gonna –” Dante panted. “Fuck, a little harder, c’mon, make me bleed, I can –”

Nero let the tip of his claw scratch the ridged crown of Dante’s length and _then_ he heard him scream, shaking from his climax, perfection in every line of his body. He hugged Dante, burying his face against his uncle’s shoulder to avoid saying _I love you_. Dante one-armedly embraced him, petting his head with dizzy tenderness.

“ _That_ was good. Think the both of you can take me?”

“Obviously,” Vergil replied.

“Wait, _what_?” Nero asked.

“Both of you,” Dante grinned, one hand sliding between his legs to spread himself with supremely confident obscenity. “Call it family bonding.”

Nero wanted to die. Vergil’s gaze was focused on Dante’s grin, on the vulnerability of his form.

“Don’t expect me to stop when you call for a break.”

“I could tell you the same,” Dante retorted.

Vergil grabbed him by the arm to pull him forward and Dante slid easily on his hips, impossibly wet. He hummed with pleasure and turned to look at Nero.

“C’mon. You’re going to make me feel it, Nero?”

Nero returned his smirk.

“We’re gonna make you scream.”

Afterward, as they laid panting and mostly human on the ground, Dante and Vergil trapped him between them and somehow convinced him to go to sleep just like that, like the irresponsible assholes they were.

***

A few days later, they managed to open a portal back to the human world. It was only a matter of cleaning up then: the return of Sparda’s sons was enough to make most of the demons flee, and the others would fall quickly enough. Still, they had to go their separate ways at the start, to cover more ground more efficiently.

Nero missed the twins like part of himself.

Part of it was probably instinct. He’d claimed them, and now, for the first time in days, they were where he couldn’t follow. Of course, it was _logical_ to separate, and even the twins weren’t together, but –

Well, instincts were instincts, and there was the human factor, too. He missed Dante and Vergil, their banter, the way they _accidentally_ touched him when they walked past him, the fluidity with which they switched from quarrels to innate complicity and so many small details: Dante’s supernatural ability to fall asleep on any surface known to man, Vergil’s habit of reading any tags he could get his hands on during lunchtime, the minute smirk that Vergil hid when he found his brother’s jokes funny…

Nero wanted to see them, but what if the feeling wasn’t mutual? What if they regretted bringing him into their relationship? He hated doubting himself that much. Nico kept telling him variations of “you’re perfect, you dumbass, except for your hate of tobacco, but they hate it too so if they have any taste they’ll beg _you_ to accept _them_ rather than the opposite.” She was his friend, though, and more than biased. Kyrie kept praising him, but Kyrie... He didn’t deserve Kyrie and the way she kept seeing the good in people.

So Nero hacked, slashed, punched, and did his duty like he had to. When the time came to admit that yes, they were in a lull between missions, and Nero had already spent time with Kyrie and the kids and was half-mad from anxiety, Nico determined that it was high time for the DMC team to join up for a meeting.

Dante sounded warm and friendly on the phone. Nero tried not to stammer or swallow his tongue _too_ much as they established a place to meet.

“Nico will be coming too?”

“Huh, yeah. She’s part of the DMC, too.”

“She minds waiting outside for a sec? A long sec. She might want to find somewhere to pass the time. If she needs tips, I know some of the best joints in town.”

Nero tried to keep breathing.

“Huh, I – she’ll manage on her own. She’s always inventing and… she’ll be fine.”

 _Great, Nero. Very eloquent_. Dante chuckled.

“See you, Nero. We’re waiting.”

So they were, huh? Nero hung up and told his heart to stop beating so hard.

“So, about speed limits,” he told Nico.

She grinned.

“Never heard of ‘em.”

Nero smirked.

“You’ll get a tip."

***

He told Nico to park a block away from the shop. It had been a good call, because as soon as Dante opened the door, Nero couldn’t help but grab him for a hug. He couldn’t talk, only hold Dante, letting his scent and warmth fill his senses.

Dante laughed and hugged him back just as hard, burying his nose in Nero’s hair. He was back to fully human, smelling like leather and sharp aftershave.

“Hello to you too, Nero.”

He wasn’t letting go, as if he’d missed Nero, too. Quiet steps announced Vergil’s approach; he didn’t touch them, only tsk-ed at them.

“Are you done? We’re outside.”

“C’mon, Vergil, it’s just a hug. You should join!”

Dante gestured at his brother. A hand touched Nero’s nape, fingers stroking the remaining scars of his bite.

“Here. This is my maximum amount of tenderness. Now, we’re going inside.”

“We’re assaulting him as soon as we close the door,” Dante informed Nero.

It sounded like a plan, so they did just that.

***

Nero had seriously intended to talk before they had sex – his body just had had other ideas. As well as the twins. For all his apparent calm, Vergil had only waited to be pinned by them to take – demand – _claim_ everything they had to offer. Even back in his human form, free from the Underworld’s influence, he’d bitten and kissed Nero enough that Nero had felt wanted again, skin echoing with the memories of sharp teeth and soft lips and all-too-skilled hands.

Nero tried to get up. Dante, who was lying on him, resisted at first, and then just gave up and laid his head on Nero’s naked thigh instead. That was _not_ conducive to a serious conversation, but Dante in himself was not conducive to a serious conversation, so Nero would take what he could get.

“You’ll need a crowbar to make him unhand you,” Vergil said with the gravity of experience.

“Thanks for the suggestion. Uh. I wanted –”

Fuck, that really was a few minutes too late.

“So you… still want me,” Nero said awkwardly.

“Evidently,” Vergil retorted.

“Duh,” Dante said.

“Don’t say it like it was obvious!” _You feel so natural together. You think that I’m the human one._ “I, uh – we never _talked_ about it. Relationships – _I_ need talking. You’ll have to get used to it, okay?”

Dante straightened out, rubbing his nape. He looked unexpectedly serious. Nero’s heart sank.

“Hey. Nero. You know, the two of us, your father and I, we’re assholes. He tore off your arm to survive, I kept the truth of your origins from you to try to protect you, and we suck at communication or empathy. Things you need and find natural, we struggle with.”

Vergil glared at Dante, who gestured appeasingly.

“I’m not saying we’re not incredibly sexy, classy and witty half-demons, because we are. I’m just saying: you’re a kind, brave and bright kid. When I saw you looking so scared when I opened the door – you’re aware that _you_ are the catch, yeah? That whole thing – that’s not demon instincts on my part, if that’s what you wanted to talk about. But we come with a price tag called ‘bad at being human’ and you… might need it. If you want to back out of this thing – that’s a serious offer. No hard feelings.”

Vergil glowered at his brother.

“Stop babying Nero, brother.”

“I’m not,” Dante snapped. “I’m protecting him. That’s what you do when you love someone.”

Vergil started to answer then stopped, staring at Nero.

“So, Nero. What do you want to do?”

There was contempt in his voice – but also frustration, and… nervousness? Vergil took what he wanted when he wanted it, after all. Things like “prudence” and “second-guessing himself” were foreign to him. He resented Dante for giving Nero an out.

He feared that Nero would take it.

The realization made Nero want to pull him forward and to kiss his mouth. He resisted, barely.

“I want to stay with you both. I already know what you are, and it’s far better than what you’re saying.” Nero clutched at his nape, pressing onward before he could stop. “Listen, I – I love you, I don’t care if it’s too early or if you’ve known each other longer or… Whatever. I’ll just demand explanations and _words_ when I need them, and that’s my price tag, if you’re okay with paying it. So. You in or not?”

“Evidently,” Vergil said with the snappy nobleness of a prince asked to pay his taxes. “I knew _you_ before starting a relationship, too.”

“You’re some kind of masochist,” Dante half-sighed, half-laughed.

Nero glared at him, ready to come up with a snappy reply. Dante laughed and took his hand to kiss it, his face softening into a sincere smile.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Nero was so in love.

“This is going to be messy, like everything in this family, but I guess you’re a big boy that can make his own decisions, so... Yeah. The three of us are an item, I don’t think that any of us really know what they’re doing, but we’ll discover it along the way. Prepare to get bitten a lot.”

“I can take it,” Nero grinned.

“Brat.”

Vergil was silent, but his lips were curled into a shadow of a smile. Nero felt a pang of fondness.

This was going to be a mess.

This was going to be worth it.

He raised his chin, exposing his throat. Both Vergil and Dante’s gaze switched to his neck, pupils blown dark and needy.

“So, we’re starting now?”

They pinned and bit him at the exact same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> I hope you had a nice time reading; have a lovely day <3


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